BERWICK 


STUDIES 


FOR 


POEMS 


BY 


CLAUDE    BERWICK 

ha  t*  c  v,      t(  c^w  I  ~ 
.^Cv-o^V      A 


The  Sweet  and   Saving  Memory 
of 


Houtsa  Babenport 


Who   Died    December,    1876, 
This  volume  is  inscribed. 


Rejoice  with  them    that  do  rejoice,  and 
weep    with    them  that  weep 

As  ye  have  done  it  unto  the  least  of  these 
ye  have  done  it  unto   Me 


523 


PRELUDE. 


The  world   is  full   of  titterings;  —  speech 

As  breath   is,  to  the  soul; 
Each   unto  all,   or  all  for  each, - 

Their  waves  together  roll. 


And   one  more  matters  little;  then 
Behold!  —  its  breathings  pass  ;  — 

Another  shade,   in  sight  of  men, 
Flits  over  churchyard  grass. 


TO    MY   SISTER   OF   THE   SACRED 
HEART. 

(TRINITA  DEI  MONTI,  ROME,  FEBRUARY",  1871.) 


Y  Sister !  In  your  thoughts  of   me. 

Trust  not  these  mortal  sighs. 
PRESS  on  my  heart  your  hand,  —  and  sec 

The  longing  in  my  eyes ! 
How  many  a  picture  Fancy  drew 

In  the  proud  days  of   yore, 
Vanished  in  blackness,  as  she  knew 

Her  suns  could  shine  no  more  ! 
Into  the  dust  her  life  she  flung, — 

Its  bloom  to  ashes  passed ; 
But  from  those  ashes,  Sister,  sprung, 
A  flower  more  sweet  at  last. 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

I  hold,  in  my  heart's  treasury, 

That  lovely  heart  of  yours ! 
I  wonder,  in  your  thoughts  of  me, — 

If  the  same  spell  endures !  — 
I  wonder,  in  the  quietness 

That  fills  your  lofty  days, — 
Through   those    calm    hours,    when   they 
suppress 

Their  outward  prayer  and  praise, 
I  wonder, — nay,  I  wonder  not, 

O  Sister,  fair  and  sweet, 
That  memory  seeks  some  sacred  spot 

To  worship  at  your  feet ! 

Perhaps, — through  all  we  feel  of  worth 
Steals  the  dissolvent,  —  Pain  ; 

Perhaps,  my  sister,  not  on  earth 
Are  we  to  meet  again; 

But  O,  God-cherished,  loveliest  one, 
Who  hushed  a  stranger's  sighs, 


STUDIES   FOR  POEMS. 

And  gave  to  view  that  Mercy's  sun 
Whose  radiance  filled  her  eyes, — 

Perhaps,  —  when  stilled  these  notes  below,- 

When  passed  this  earthly  shore, — 
•  In  thee  my  grateful  heart  shall  know 
Christ's  image,  evermore. 


(9) 


L'AFFINITA. 


(THE  SAME  TO  THE  SAME.) 

HE  fixed  her  eyes  upon  the  wall 

So  aged,  worn,  and  dim  ; 
Th  e  faded  frescoes  shone  o'er  all 

Like  wings  of  seraphim  ! 
The  Altar  gleamed,  all  radiantly 

Set  from  her  grief  apart; 
She  had  her  thoughts  in  days  gone  by, 
Her  hand  upon  her  heart. 

"Ah,  Lord,  Redeemer!"  still  she  cries, 

Her  eyes  too  dim  with  tears 
To  see,  if  they  were  near,  the  skies  — 
"How  far  Thy  love  appears! 

(10) 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

I  cannot  feel,  I  cannot  know 

Aught  save  my  misery. 
Lord !  as  Thou  pitiest  all  below, 

Thou  must  remember  me ! 

Thou  hast  said, — 'Whoever  comes  to  Me 

Cast  out,  I  will  not ; ' —  there  ! 
Whence  then  these  floods  ^f  misery, 

These  witherings  of  despair? 
Lord !  if  but  one  least,  outward  sign 

Came  to  me  from  Thy  grace, — 
It  would  be,  to  this  soul  of  mine, 

As  I  had  seen  Thy  face  ! " 

Her  voice  dropped  down ;  her  heart  grew  faint ; 

As  stiffening  into  stone, 
She,  now  released  from  prayer  and  plaint, 

Sat  in  the  church  alone  ; 
Alone  !  —  Before  that  holy  shrine, 

Lost  in  one  cloud  of  fear, — 


* 

STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

How  little  might  she  guess,  the  sign 
She  asked  for,  was  so  near ! 

She  felt  the  flutterings  of  her  strife 

Slowly,  to  quiet,  tend; 
For  even  such  passion  brings,  like  life, — 

Its  own  appointed  end ; 
Lay  round  her  stillness  of  the  tomb  — 

Unbroke  by  sign  or  word; 
When  from  some  far-off  nook  of  gloom 

A  crouching  figure  stirred. 

It  was  a  figure,  —  though  forlorn, 

Yet  with  some  touch  of  grace ; 
Shades,  that  not  time,  but  strife,  had  worn, 

Marked  all  the  down-cast  face ; 
The  dark  robes  rustled  as  she  moved 

Swift  from  her  lone  retreat; 
Yet  scarce  even  listener's  ear  had  proved 

That  tread  of  noiseless  feet. 

(12) 
' -* 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

On,  —  over  many  a  sculptured  stone  ;  ' 

How  calm  they  sleep  below ! 
^n* —  where  the  painted  hues  were  strown 

To  flush  the  marble's  glow, — 
She  passed.     So  resolute  and  true 

The  purpose  in  her  face, 
Its  weary  lines  grew  soft  to  view 

Returned  some  by-gone  grace. 

Still  in  her  reverie  drooped  the  Nun  ; 

That  giant  sorrow's  spell 
All  tha^  she  knew  beneath  the  sun, — 

When  on  her  shoulder  fell 
A  touch.  —  She,  starting,  looked  in  eyes 

That  flashed  upon  her  there, 
Where  some  strange  sweetness  seemed  to  rise 

Mixed  with  a  strange  despair. 

Words  came  not.     Round  their  souls  how  deep 
The  silence  seemed  to  spread! 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

That  Nun's  hand  with  its  lips  to  sweep, 

Low  bent  the  haughty  head; 
Nay,  more  than  this;  the  figure  sank 

Down,  crouching  on  the  floor, 
While  her  bruised  spirit  healing  drank, 

It  had  not  known  before. 

u  Sister,  "  —  she  said,  "  I  have  longed  for  you 

Such  weary  nights  and  days ! 
Through  clouds  unspeakable,  I  knew 

There  must  be  notes  of  praise ! 
This  world  is  but  a  glancing  void, 

An  arid  waste  of  stone ; 
Its  love  and  usefulness  destroyed 

Only  for  me  alone  !  " 

The  Sister's  gentle  eyes  looked  down 

On  hers  so  full  of  strife  ; 
She  might  have  heard,  without  a  frown,— 

The  story  of  her  life. 

(14) 


STUDIES  FOE  POEMS. 

They  clasped,  they  kissed  in  wordless  prayer, 

Holding  each  other's  hand ; 
And  something  lay  between  them  there, 

None  else  could  understand. 


TO  CLARICE. 


A  spirit,  formed  of  li^ht  and  flame, — 
Straight  into  a  dark  heart  you  came. 


:-:HEN  first  your  face  I  chanced  to  meet,— 
r"  I    thought,'    "  How    fair    it   is  !  —  How 

sweet ! " 

But  nothing  then  my  eyes  could  see 
Of  messages  it  held, —  for  me. 

Still  that  face  drew  me,  day  by  day, 
As  some  fair  prospect,  far  away,— 
Seen  often,  and  more  near,  will  send 
Its  beauty  with  our  lives  to  blend, — 
And  linger  by  us, — to  the  end. 

Yet  why  say  on?  —  These  eyes  may  trace 
Perhaps  no  more,  O  gentle  face, 


STUDIES  FOE    POEMS. 

Those  lines  of  beauty  and  of  power 

That  made  thee  dearer,  hour  by  hour;  — 

Perhaps  no  more  into  my  skies 

Shall  break  the  light  of  those  blue  eyes, — 

Yet  may  I  not  their  deeps  forget, 

Till  all  my  earthly  suns  have  set. 


(17) 


A   DEATH-BEE). 

p 

HE  sweet  winds  entered  full  and  free,- — 
And  the  last  sighs  were  there ; 

Bent  o'er  the  couch  the  Priest, — to  see 

If  now  there  might  be  prayer. — 
Flowers  blushed  within  that  room,  and 
threw 

Their  fragrance  on  the  night ; 
In  face  of  Death  a  vision  grew, 

Of  splendor  and  delight. 
So  deep  the  calm,  I  seemed  to  feel 

The  gentle  southern  breeze 
Ashamed,  so  swiftly  to  reveal 

Its  message  from  the  seas ;  — 
Dark  shadows,  changing  like  a  dream, — 

Quivered  on  roof  and  wall ; 

(18) 


STUDIES   FOR   POEMS. 

And  through  the  casement  fell  the  gleam 
Of  moonlight  over  all. 

u  Daughter," — -he  said, —  (his  voice  was  calm, 

And  strangely  deep  his  eyes  ;  — ) 
"  Thy  hours  are  numbered, — life's  last  psalm 

To-night  shall  o'er  thee  rise. 
Thy  years  press  round  thee,  a  dark  throng 

Of  tales  that  have  been  told ;  — 
Naught  boots  it,  back  to  look,  along 
Those  buried  deeps  of  old. 
******** 

His  glory  has  defied  our  gloom, 

He  is  Himself  our  Quest, 
His  pardon  has  become  our  doom, — 

His  Sacred  Wounds  our  Rest." 


"Father," — she  spake, — and,  to  my  thought, 
On  all  she  loved  so  well, — 
(19) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

Trees,  flowers,  these  winds  with  odors  fraught, 

A  sudden  stillness  fell ;  — 
"Father!     But  three  short  years  ago 

In  bitterness  malign 
Thy  dreams  no  soul  on  earth  could  know 

So  dead,  so  lost  as  mine ! 
Each  bright  and  happy  gift  would  turn 

To  ashes  at  my  gaze, — 
How  from  such  horror  patience  learn, 

How  weigh  such  evil  days? — 
My  life  of  life  was  stricken,  —  its  flower 

Dead  in  that  Upas  air; 
One  weight  lay  on  me  every  hour,— 

The  name  of  it,  —  Despair! 


"  Nay,  Father,  peace  !  —  I  have  but  spoken 

Thus  of  those  vanished  days,— 
To  show  what  chains  Thy  touch  has  broken, 

What  sighings  turned  to  praise ! 


(20) 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

Nor  even  thy  touch  alone,  for  still 

Without  God's  grace,  I  know 
Thou  had'st  been  powerless  to  fulfill 

Thy  glorious  work  below ;  — 
But  from  that  well-remembered  eve 

When  first  the  thought  was  mine, 
That  God's  great  mercy  still  could  grieve 

For  me,  with  strength  divine, — 
I  felt  my  doom  depart ;  beheld 

The  poison-vapors  flee, — 
By  this  great  truth  to  life  compelled, — 

God  had  remembered  me! 

"  Should  I  have  lingered  on  this  theme 

Father,  —  so  near  the  end? 
And  yet,  —  thou  art  no  passing  dream, — 

My  soul's  most  constant  friend; 
Life  was  a  riddle  till  I  saw 

Thy  hand  point  out  the  clue, 

(21) 

* 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

And  knew  these  words  to  be  Thy  law,  — 

4  Lord  !  —  what  for  me  to  do  ?  '  — 
Thy  feet,  set  in  the  path  to  Heaven, 

Walk  firmly  on  their  way  ;  — 
At  what  a  distance  mine  have  striven, 

No  words  can  ever  say,  — 
Methinks  even  eyes  like  thine  might  shun 

The  weight  of  sins  I  bear  ;  — 
And  yet,  for  me,  the  deadliest  one 

Is  only,  —  to  despair."  — 


They  are  fled,  —  the  long  last  shades  of  night, 

And  from  these  azure  skies 
Behold,  in  airy,  cloudless  night,  — 

A  crystal  morn  arise  ! 
And  Nature  lifteth  up  her  psalm 

For  powers  that  life  restore  ; 
But  one  still  figure,  pale  and  calm, 

Shall  know  them,  —  nevermore. 

(22) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

The  walls  that  Earth's  despairs  have  made, 

Death's  lightnings  cleave  apart;  — 
And  the  white  crucifix  is  laid 

On  the  once  burning  heart. 
One  met  the  Father,  knowing  what  goal 

On  earth  had  been  her  quest;  — 
Asked  him,  "How  fares  it  with  her  soul?" 

He  said,   "She  is  at  rest."— 


(23) 


DYING   SONG 

OF  THE  ITALIAN  SOLDIER  AFTER  THE  BATTLE  OF  SOLFERINO, 
TO  HIS  ENGLISH  FRIEND  AND  BROTHER-IN-ARMS. 


LIEND,  friend !    I  lean  upon  thee  now, 

The  bitterest  pang  is  past ; 
And  I  must  die,  with  martial  brow, — 
*,  .    A  soldier  to  the  last. 
Thy  hand  still  warm  iif  mine ;  thy  tone 

Still  throbbing  in  my  ears ; 
Nay,  never  shed,  —  my  friend,  my 'own, — 
These  bitter,  useless  tears ! 

What  though  in  all  the  fire  of  youth, 
I  sought  my  land  to  save ; 

(24) 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

Have  I  not  given  her  back,  in  truth,  — 

The  very  life  she  gave  ? 
Thou  mourn'st  that  thus  my  course  should  end, 

That  on  this  field  I  lie ; 
Yet  say,  O  loved  and  constant  friend, 

How  could  I  worthier  die? 

Two  pictures  rise  before  me  now; 

Pictures  distinct  and  clear; 
Thou,  looking  with  me,  canst  avow, 

Which  brightest  shall  appear. 
One,  — -of  that  life  we  long  to  keep,  — 

That  chain  we  love  to  bear ; 
The  length  of  days  that  onward  sweep, 

To  land  us  in  despair  ! 

Nay,  start  not,  —  look.     Myself  I  see 
Bowed  down,  and  old,  and  gray, 

All  manhood's  powers  and  graces  free, 
Forever  passed  away. 

(25) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

My  friends  departed ;  strange  and  dumb 

Thy  memory  in  the  past ; 
Or,  bitterer  still,  —  our  love  become 

But  hate  and  scorn  at  last ! 

No,  no,  thank  Heaven,  this  cannot  be  ! 

For  me  that  doom  is  o'er; 
I,  on  Life's  treacherous,  raging  sea, 

Shall  struggle  now  no  more. — 
But  watch  the  other  scene !     Behold, 

Serene,  and  still,  and  bright, 
I  see  the  heavenly  scroll  unrolled, 

The  morning  still  the  night! 

I  see  my  name,  —  if  soon  forgot, 
Untouched  by  shame  or  woe ;  — 

My  maiden  shield  without  a  blot, 
My  death  before  the  foe  ! 

I  see  beside  me,  —  boon  more  dear 
Than  aught  my  dreams  could  crave, 
(•*] 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 


Thy  love,  —  a  love  to  reign,  to  cheer, 
To  stir  beyond  the  grave ! 


The  darkness  round  me  seems  t< 

Or  are  my  lashes  wet? 
One  word,— the  last!    Friend,  first 

The  end  draws  swifter  nigh; 
But  thus,  upon  thy  faithful  breast, 

It  is  not  hard  to  die! 


THE   NUN. 

T  was  a  Nun,  who  in  her  cell 

Sat  quiet,  and  alone  ; 
But  for  the  beads  she  had  to  tell, 

Her  lips  were  carven  stone  ; 
What  could  it  be,  —  the  unuttered  spell 
That  o'er  her  past  was  thrown?  — 

Dark,  as  she  sat,  above  her  grew 

The  shadows  on  the  wall ; 
There  was  the  "mattrass-grave," — and  there 

Her  upward  glances  fall 
Upon  her  Maker's  tortured  form, — 

The  ransom  given  for  all. 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

How  many  years  since  first  this  life 

Was  hers,  —  that  spell  serene 
Cast  o'er  her  thoughts,  her  looks,  her  words 

That  dead,  regardless  mien  ? 
Could  it  be  ever  that  she  knew 

A  woman's  passions  keen?  — 

There  is  scarce  a  shadow  on  her  brow  ; 

The  shade  that  on  her  lies, 
Comes  from  a  soul  that  once  would  know 

All  life  with  sweet  surprise  ; 
Now,  withered,  soiled,  —  could  that  be  fairv 

Yea,  even  to  angel  eyes  ! 

God  !  Thou  hast  made  the  dumb  to  speak, 

The  unhoping  blind  to  see ; 
From  one  chop  of  Earth's  suffering  cup, 

Released  Thou  would'st  not  be ;  — 
This  life  is  full  of  mysteries 

That  none  shall  know  but  Thee. 
(29) 


— : : * 

STUDIES  FOE  POEMS. 

This  woman,  when  I  think  upon 

Any  life  through  the  years 
That  might  have  been,  that  might  be  hers. 

With  springing  hopes  and  fears,  — 
And  now,  —  this  open  sepulchre, 

Where  even  there  fall  not  tears ! 

My  God,  my  God !     That  name  is  Thine  ; 

Thou,  —  makest  not  afraid ; 
Through  bitterest  valleys  when  we  go 

There  might  be  darker  shade  ; 
Thou  hatest,  saith  Thy  mystic  Word, 

Nothing  that  Thou  hast  made. 

My  thoughts  go  back  upon  the  Nun  ;  — 

I  feel  that  she  must  know 
God's  love  for  her  as  sweet,  as  true, — 

As  for  aught  else  below ; 
She  waits  for  the  other  life  to  see 

Why  this  was  ever  so. 
(30) 


TERESA   OF   A  VILA 

BEFORE  HER  CRUCIFIX. 


the  Saint's  face  so  softly  lies 
The  blessedness  of  prayer,  — 
So  firmly  seek  the  Saint's  sweet  eyes, 

Her  sacred  symbol  there,  — 
We  deem  no  powers  of  mortal  worth 
Might  tempt  her  thoughts  to  roam, 
And  the  pure  soul,  even  while  on  earth, 
Half  lifted  to  its  home. 

Yet  think  not  this.     She,  —  gentle,  true, 

Noble,  beloved  and  brave,  — 
Herself  life's  sharpest  conflicts  knew, 

Herself  could  vainly  crave  ;  — 
For  twenty  years  she  might  not  pray,  — 

Her  thoughts  o'erwent  control  ;  — 


STUDIES   FOR   POEMS. 

But  God,  Who  cast  it,  took  away 
This  shadow  from  her  soul. 

And  then, — when  strife  was  o'er,  and  she 

A  conqueror  in  the  light, — 
How  yearned  her  generous  heart  to  free 

Others  from  deeper  night !  — 
In  life  she  knew  no  single  hour 

This  wish  did  not  command ; 
Her  influence  spread, — a  holy  power,— 

Afar  throughout  the  land. 

******** 
They  asked  her  once, — of  those,  whose  lot 

Was  never  Heaven  to  know, — 
What  was  their  worst  chastisement, — what 

Their  one  distinctive  woe?  — 
They  waited  then,  her  words  to  greet ;  — 

Lifting  deep  eyes  above, — 
She  answered  only,  calm  and  sweet, — 
"Alas!  They  do  not  love." 
(32) 


AN   ORIENTAL   SALUTATION. 

"  PEACE  BE  WITH  YOU." 

EACE  be  with  you! — Peace  at  night, 

In  the  obscure  and  solemn  light ; 
Peace  at  morn,  when,  softly  gay, 
Those  fair  eyes  open  to  the  day ; 
Peace,  while    earth's   light   is   round  thee ; 

peace 

Beyond  thy  dreams  when  earth  shall  cease ; — 
Peace  forever!     But  for  me, 
What  peace  is  there,  —  save  with  thee  ? 


(33) 


-til 


AMINE. 

ERE  dwells  she  ?  "— "  Seest  thou  in 

the  vale 

Yon  gracious  mansion  rise, — 
Where  trees  wave  slowest  to  the  gale, 
And  sweetest  sunshine  lies? 

•"•  The  vines  arch  o'er  the  balcony ;  — 

The  roses  bloom  beyond ; 
The  joyous  birds,  on  every  tree, — 
To  Nature's  joy  respond." 

"  What  is  her  destiny  ?     How  speeds 

For  her  that  shadow,  —  Life  ? 
How  are  fulfilled  the  immortal  needs  ?  — 
And  how  is  met  the  strife?" 

(34) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

Her  husband  bears,  known  far  and  near, 

A  true  and  honored  name  ; 
A  seaman  once  ;  he  would  not  fear 

A  thing  on  earth  but  shame. 


"  Wealth  is  his  now ;  his  toils  are  done  ; 

Yet,  more  than  all  beside, — 
The  wife  his  constancy  hath  won, 
His  treasure  and  his  pride  ! 

"  The  very  apple  of  his  eye  ; 

Stranger  !  —  'tis  even  so  ;  — 
How  a  strong  man  can  love,  and  why, 
Perhaps  you  may  not  know. 

"  There  plays,  beside  the  lady's  knee, 

A  boy  of  fairy  grace  ;  — 
In  whom,  already,  you  may  see 
The  fairy  mother's  face !  " 

(35) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

u  Is  she  so  fair,  then  ?  "  —  "I  have  seen 

0  stranger  !  many  lands  ;  — 
Stood  on  Columbia's  prairies  green, 

Arabia's  desert-sands ;  — 

"  And  fair  ones  I  have  known,  who  taught 

My  heart  to  feel  their  power ; 
Yet  never  met  I,  to  my  thought, 
One  like  this  English  flower ! 

fct  When  I  look  on  her  face,  meseems 

1  stand  in  moonlight  pale 

Stirless  ;  —  nor  can  explain  the  dreams 
That  o'er  my  thoughts  prevail ! 

kt  So  gracious,  too  !  —  There's  not  a  boor 

Her  look  might  chance  to  meet, — 
But  for  her  sake  would  toil  endure, — 
Would  worship  at  her  feet !  " 

(36) 


* 

STUDIES  FOB  POEMS. 

"  You  paint,"  —  I  said,  —  "  a  mortal  lot 

From  mortal  terrors  free  ;  — 
Without  a  bitterness  or  blot ; 
Almost  too  bright  to  be  ! 

"  So  sweet,  so  loved,  so  beautiful ! 
All  brightness  round  her  cast ; 
Her  cup  of  bliss  must  be  so  full, 
It  should  run  o'er  at  last !  " 

"  Stranger  !     I  gave  thee  naught  but  truth  ; 

And  yet,  —  if  thou  should'st  spy 
In  all  her  beauty  and  her  youth, — 
The  enchantress  pass  thee  by ; 

"  To  God,  thy  Father,  bend  the  knee, 

And  of  His  mercy  crave 
For  her,  as  happiest  doom,  to  be 
This  hour  within  her  grave  !  " 

(37) 


WE   ARE   THREE. 

E  are  three,  —  in  love  and  pride; 

Our  hearts  walk  daily  side  by  side., 
We  are  three, — in  hope  and  truth; 

<  r 

Linked  by  the  golden  dreams  of  youth. 

We  are  three,  —  yet  of  us,  one 
Lies  far  beneath  the  orient  sun, 
Where  the  pale  palm-trees  bend  in  pride, 
To  kiss  the  earth  where  warriors  died. 


We  are  three,  —  yet,  beneath  the  wave, 
My  love  lies  in  a  lonely  grave, — 
The  waters  flow  upon  his  breast ; 
He  sleeps  in  everlasting  rest. 

(38) 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

Those  two  are  dead,  —  I  yet  remain 
Within  this  world  of  toil  and  pain, — 
Yet  wheresoe'er  my  footsteps  flee, 
I  bear  this  token,  —  We  are  three. 

We  are  three,  —  our  love  is  more, 
Our  hearts  are  stronger  than  of  yore. 
Though  their  loved  forms  I  cannot  see, — 
We  are  together,  —  we  are  three. 

I  wait,  —  my  life  is  dim  and  still ; 
My  worn-out  heart  no  more  can  thrill ;  — 
I  wait  for  Death,  my  soul  to  free, — 
Yet  even  here  we  still  are  three. 

O  strange,  sweet  power !  what  dreams  can  reign 
Like  these  so  far  from  mortal  pain  ?  — 
What  hope,  what  glory  can  I  see, 
Fair  as  the  sign,  —  that  we  are  three  ? 

(39) 


THE   VOYAGE    OF   THE   PETREL. 


(To  CLARICE.) 

I  will  permit  the  reader  to  picture  me  for  the  next  eight 
years,  as  a  bark  slumbering  through  halcyon  weather,  in  a 
harbor  still  as  glass,  —  the  steersman  stretched  on  the  little 
deck,  his  face  up  to  Heaven,  his  eyes  closed;  buried,  if  you 
will,  in  a  long  prayer 

However,  it  cannot  be  concealed  that  in  that  case  I  must 
somehow  have  fallen  overboard,  or  that  there  must  have 
been  wreck  at  last.  I  too  well  remember  a  time,  —  a  long 

time  of  cold,  of  danger,  of  contention 

I  even  know  there  was  a  storm,  and  that  not  of  one  hour  or 
one  day.  For  many  days  and  "nights,  neither  sun  nor  stars 
appeared ;  we  cast  with  our  own  hands  the  tackling  out  of 
the  ship ;  a  heavy  tempest  lay  on  us ;  all  hope  that  we  should 
be  saved  was  taken  away.  In  fine,  the  ship  was  lost,  the 
crew  perished.  VILLETTE,  Chap  4. 


'AIR  friend,  whose  softest  eyes,  intent, — 

Such  witchery  o'er  me  cast, — 
Thou  ask'st  me  then, — how  I  have  spent 
Those  days  of  absence, — past? 

(40) 


* * 

STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

Those  eyes,  —  I  shall  not  let  them  keep 

My  actual  presence  nigh; 
Nor,  with  their  radiant  rarigings,  sweep 

The  cold  reality; 

Yet, —  such  their  mercy  and  their  power, — 

Half  would  I  let  them  know 
This  history,  in  some  deepest  hour 

Of  love  for  all  below. 


Take  up  the  riddle  of  my  life ; 

Where  thy  resemblance  shone 
With  all  sweet  hopes  and  meanings  rife 

See  vacancy  alone. 

Bound  to  some  port  I  needs  must  be; 

It  matters  little  where ; 
Behold  me,  then,  on  a  calm  sea, — 

Whose  waters* are  despair. 

(41) 


* — • 

STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

Yet  nought  affects  it  this,  that  I, 
Serene,  perhaps,  and  bland, — 

Should  watch  my  vessel  quietly 
Leave  out  of  sight  the  land; 

Like  Egypt's  love,  I  may  recline 
On  couches  soft  and  deep, — 

And  breathe  the  happiest  airs  divine, 
In  simulated  sleep ; 

Or  list  the  deep-voiced  sailors'  song, 
While  rough  but  faithful  hands 

Prepare  my  ship  for  voyage  long, 
Among  the  unknown  lands. 

Not  even  a  cloudlet  floats,  to  speck 
The  blue  and  dreamy  air; 

The  steersman  lies  upon  the  deck, — 
Buried,  perhaps,  in  prayer. — 


# 

(42) 


STUDIES  FOE  POEMS. 

This  Lethean  quiet !  —  must  it  cease  ? 

Balm  for  the  heart  opprest  ? 
Ah! — is  it,  then,  a  conquered  peace, — 

Or  but  deceitful  rest? 

Fast  drew  that  season  to  its  close ;  — 

As,  by  some  careless  word,  — 
Dropped  suddenly  from  its  repose, — 

We  know  the  heart  is  stirred; 

So,  when  I  heard  a  dreary  sound 

Low  muttering  far  away, — 
I  knew  the  tempest  was  unbound, — 

Ready  to  meet  its  prey. 

I  knew,  —  I  shuddered.  —  With  earth's  woe 
Must  earth's  frail  hearts  despond; 

What  will   be,  will  be ;  this  we  know ; 
Why  seek  to  pierce  beyond? 

(43) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

I  waited,  reckless  half,  in  thought, — 

If  that  sea  were  my  grave ; 
Waited,  —  while  rising,  round  me  wrought 

The  powers  of  wind  and  wave. 

Strange  deeps  in  Life,  in  Nature,  form 

Before  the  expectant  eye ; 
Not  for  one  hour,  nor  day,  that  storm 

Might  rave  beneath  that  sky. 

Nothing  foreboded  lip  to  lip; 

Even  closer  human  bands; 
There  were  firm  hearts  within  that  ship 

And  strong  and  faithful  hands. 

Yet,  to  my  thought,  it  seemed  to  be 

In  that  drear  dark  unknown 
When  th'  others  drew  so  close,  for  me 

Marked  out  to  stand  alone. 

(44) 


: — * 

STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

I  cried  unto  the  winds  and  waves ; 

Methought,  their  sole  reply 
Was  but  to  rear  their  green  sea-caves 

Against  the  stormy  sky. 

All  elements  in  earth  or  heaven, 

Seemed  in  that  hour  to  meet ; 
I  saw,  even  from  that  ruptured  levin, 

Fall  on  us  radiance  sweet. 

It  was  a  mystery  all,   I  knew ; 

But,  —  mystery  not  in  vain; — 
These  words  came  ever  to  my  view, 
"  Joy  in  the  heart  of  pain." 

Ah  me,  such  thoughts  how  vain,  how  weak, — 

Before  that  ruthless  sky, — 
Whose  myriad  voices  seemed  to  speak, — 
"  You  are  drifting  on  to  die  I " 

(45)  ,, 


STUDIES  FOB  POEMS. 

Even  that  last  crash,  when  all  was  o'er,  — 
The  sunken  rocks  our  goal, — 

Seemed  but  a  whispering  sound,  before 
The  anguish  of  my  soul. 


I  speak  and  live.      How  is  it,  then, 

I  have  not  looked-  my  last 
On  earth  and  sky,  and  fields  and  men, 

With  that  experience  past? 

The  young,  the  loved,  the  happy, —  caught 
To  worlds  we  dare  not  sound; 

How  is  it  such  as  I  was  brought 
Out  of  the  deeps  profound? 

I,  at  the  least,  O  Lord,  can  say 
To  Thee,  who  gav'st  me  breath, — 

Shadow  or  sunshine,  I  could  pray 
Never  for  life,  —  but  death. 

(46) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

This  story  of  my  voyage  is  true ; 

To  all  who  prosper,  known. 
In  fine,  the  ship  was  lost,  the  crew 
Perished,  save  I  alone. 


47) 


LINES 


SUGGESTED  BY  THE  TWO  STONE  FIGURES  AT  THE  NORTH 
ENTRANCE  or  ROUEN  CATHEDRAL.     (PORTAIL 

DBS   LlRRAIRES,)    SEPTEMBER  24TH,    1871. 

OR  ages  they  have  dwelt  in  stone, 

Two  mystic  figures  fair;  — 
For  ages,  passers-by  have  known 

A  fragrance,  —  as  of  prayer. 
How  long  some  tender  chisel  wrought 

To  leave  those  forms  of  peace ! 
Even  yet,  the  sculptor's  pious  thought 
Its  working  shall  not  cease. 


Girt  round  by  all  the  city's  din, 
The  brave  Cathedral  stands; 

A  spark  of  fire,  those  deeps  within 
Dropt  down  from  Heavenly  hands; 

(48) 


* 

STUDIES  FOE   POEMS. 

It  flings  the  splendor  of  a  dream 

Upon  the  unworthy  street; 
And  on  its  strength  all  forms  supreme 

All  holiest  symbols  meet. 

Yet  men,  in  every  beauty,  see 

The  one,  last  touch  divine ;  — 
And  for  each  heart  there  seems  to  be 

Some  special-lighted  shrine.— 
Thus,  in  no  other  outward  nook 

So  was  my  spirit  bowed,  - 
As  where  these  figures  seemed  to  look 

Upon  the  passing  crowd. 

They  were  so  sweet!  —  as  they  had  come 

Borne  soft  through  midnight  air 
To  bring  some  soul,  oppressed  and  dumb,  — 

The  vision  of  a  prayer; 
Which,  in  that  sudden  light  set  free, — 

He,  who  such  waiting  bore, — 

D  (49) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

Had,  after,  fixed  in  stone,  —  to  be 
An  offering  evermore. 

They  are  so  stern!  —  because  they  know 

No  faintest  link  with  sin; 
Soft  figures,  fleeing  all  below 

The  Heavenly  grace  to  win ; 
And,  to  my  thought,  the  haloes  true 

That  ever  round  them  came,— 
Turned  each  heart-outward,  to  our  view, 

How  different,  —  yet  the  same  ! 

Clad  in  monk's  robe  and  cowl  is  one ; 

Down-bent  the  waiting  eyes ; 
His  hands  are  crossed;    his  eyes  upon 

The  earth,  not  in  the  skies. 
Yet, — patient  traveler  in  this  clime, 

Loving  and  loved  in  strife, — 
How  far  beyond  these  shades  of  time 

Is  lived  his  truest  life  ! 
(50) 


STUDIES  FOR    POEMS. 

His  is  a  spirit, — sad,  yet  true; 

Feeling  its  weight  of  sin ;  — 
Ordained,  that  very  anguish  through, 

Pardon  and  peace  to  win, — 
But  yet, — the  Shadow.  —  For   the  light 

In  radiant  angel  guise, — 
His  comrade  stands,  with  eyes  of  might, 

Uplifted  to  the  skies  I 

Uplifted!  —  Not  a  touch  of  fear 

Dwells  on  that  star-like  brow;  — 
If  sorrow  dimmed  those  features  here, — 

The  stains  are  vanished  now. 
How  merciful  the  thought,  to  abide 

Through  years  of  sinful  breath, 
In  homes  that  might  be  glorified 

Thus  by  the  hand  of  death! 

Two  products  are  they,  of  one  root, — 
These  loving  figures  fair; 

(so 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

Type  of  the  seed  and  of  the  fruit,  — 
Earthly  and  Heavenly  prayer. 

One  without  other  might  not  be ; 
Though  every  cloud  should  burst 

To  shew  us  light's  intensity, — 
We  need  the  shadow  first. 

Many  and  marvellous  years  have  flown 

Since  hands,  so  skilled  and  blest, — 
To  sh.ape  these  angel  thoughts  in  stone, 

Have  crossed  themselves  in  rest ;  — 
The  sculptor's  soul  might  seek  in  vain 

His  world  of  hopes  and  fears;  — 
But  yet,  —  his  message  shall  remain,  — 

And  speak  through  all  the  years. 


(52) 


MALA  PROHIBITA,  — MALA  IN  SE. 

Flesh  lies  around  us,  everywhere; 
God  help  us  in  our  heart's  despair. 

WALKED  within  a  smiling  land; 
The  mountains  stood  on  either  hand, 
Strife  with  their  peace  to  overwhelm ; 
Fair  guardians  of  a  fairer  realm. 
They  drew  their  outlines,  soft  and  high, 
Against  the  pureness  of  the  sky; 
Their  height,  their  distance,  grew  to  me  . 
Ideals  of  mystic  liberty. 
Valleys  and  streamlets  at  their  feet 
Made  the  fair  picture  all  complete, 
And  my  soul  quieted  its  sighs 
To  gaze  upon  their  destinies. 

(53) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

I  walked  with  pleasant  comrades  there ; 

The  mountains  towered  divinely  fair, — 

The  air  was  balm ;  —  there  came  to  me 

A  sense  of  utter  misery. 

Their  talk,  —  what  was  it?  —  Heart,  o'erthrow 

Fair  visions  of  the  long  ago, — 

Accept  the  emptiness  of  days 

That  know  not  yearning,  power,  or  praise,  — 

Even  then  thou  wilt,  —  not  glad,  —  behold 

The  shutting  of  the  gates  of  gold,— 

The  poisoning  of  the  radiant  thought 

That  mean  all  meanings  Life  has  wrought,  — 

The  words  of  course,  that  like  rough  seas, — 

Bring  shadows  o'er  God's  silences ! 

But  He  remembered!  —  I  could  see,— 
When  other  noontides  rose  for  me. 

I  walked,  then,  with  a  little  child ; 
His  face,  his  spirit,  undefiled; 

(54) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

His  fancies  ranging,  wide  and  true,  — 
As  those  far  hills  beyond  his  view, — 
His  soft,  small  brain  in  quietness 
Gathering  all  powers  that  yet  should  bless. 
He  dwelt  not  with  the  things  of  time, — 
But  of  the  Eternities  sublime, — 
And  Life's  Medusa-horrors  fell 
Before  that  gentle  spectacle. 

"A  little  child  shall  lead  them!"     True; 
O  my  sad  heart,  was  this  for  you? 


(55) 


FATE   AND   FREE-WILL. 

My  heart  so  beat,  I  flew  so  fast,— 
This  cannot  be  «'  Too  late !  "  at«last. 

HEY  said  that  she  was  dying ;  though 
How  true  the  tale  I  could  not  know. 
Such  life  as  dwelt  in  her,  by  right,  — 

Could  death  put,  instant,  out  of  sight  ? 


How  many  years  we  spent  apart ! 
How  old  this  aching  at  my  heart ! 

That  morn  we  met !     I  know  it  well ; 
How  fair  the  early  sunlight  fell 
On  lawn  and  terrace,  lifted  brave 
High  o'er  the  sleeping  azure  wave  ! 
Behind,  the  stately  mansion  rose ; 
Its  secrets  locked  in  grim  repose. 
(56) 


STUDIES  FOE  POEMS. 

How  bloomed,  those  peaceful  morning  hours, 

In  sheltered  balcony  the  flowers  ! 

How,  like  all  dazzling  gems  in  one, — 

Glittered  that  sea  beneath  the  sun ! 

How  airs,  that  might  have  vexed  the  day, — 

In  softest  distance  died  away ! 

How  hints  would  come,  in  pausing  note, — 

Of  sea-girt  mariners  afloat ! 

How  zephyrs,  from  some  far-off  shore 

Would  round  them  nameless  fragrance  pour! 

How  sent  the  bird,  unfaltering,  there 

His  song  into  the  upper  air! 

How  earth  and  sky,  and  wave  and  beam 

Made  all  the  world  one  fairy  dream, — 

With  hope,  youth,  joy,  enchantment  rife; 

Might  I  not  feel  in  love  with  life? 

Ah,  yes  !     I  joyed  in  Nature's  lore ; 

But  knew,  —  there  wanted  something  more. 

(57) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

That  came.  —  A  figure  passed  me  by, — 
As,  leaning  from  the  balcony, — 
Seaward  I  looked.  —  A  figure  slight,  — 
With  unheard  step,  and  eyes  of  might. 
Though  fixed  and  far  my  gaze, was  bent, 
I  knew  that  something  came  and  went. 
Retracing  swift  her  noiseless  ways,  — 
I  turned ;  the  sunlight  drooped  to  haze,  — 
And  our  eyes  met, — in  a  long  gaze. 

A  long,  long  gaze !     The  first  is  past ;  — 
There  must  be  thousands  ere  the  last ! 

Describe  her !  —  Words,  thus  coldly  dealt,  — 
To  paint  what  is  not  seen,  but  felt! 
Or,  —  could  a  painter  fix  the  dyes 
That  hover  betwixt  earth  and  skies? 

She  was  my  focus;  in  one  blaze 
Drew  all 'my  scattered  spirit-rays. 

(58) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

Life  dwelt  within  her ;  life  so  keen 
And  quick,  nought  else  could  intervene. 
She  with  you,  breathing  earthly  breath,  - 
There  was  no  room  for  thoughts  of  death ! 

One  moment  I  describe,  —  retrace  ;  — 
Upon  the  darkness  paint  her  face  ! 


A  brow  broad,  generous,  gentle,  —  eyes 
More  softly  blue  than  summer  skies,— 
Which  held  so  much  within  those  deeps 
Where,  in  its  home,  the  spirit  sleeps, — 
That  this  strange  thought  at  times  I  knew,  — 
Those  eyes,  —  w^ere  they  a  dream,  or  true  ? 
Yet,  fancying  thus,  I  need  but  turn 
Where,  in  their  love,  could  lightings  burn,  — 
Or,  —  where  each  curve  and  line  was  grace, — 
Look  .on  that  sparkling,  fairy  face,  — 
Or  list  those  tones  so  rich,  so  sweet, — 

(  59) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

That  made  Life's  music  all  complete, — 
To  crush  self-torments  in  their  birth, — 
To  know  her  woman  of  the  earth ! 
Those  eyes,  —  they  must  be  true,  for  me,  — 
So  much  I  needed  them,  —  and  thee ! 

She  of  my  life  was  star,  was  queen ; 
But  ah,  what  shadows  rushed  between ! 

There  were  long  years, — I  breathed,  I  felt  ;- 
At  times  this  darkness  seemed  to  melt, — 
And  through  its  dying  mists  of  strife, 
Show  me  a  glory  as  of  Life. 
But  even  as  I  beheld,  and  knew 
All  else  was  false,  this  only  true, — 
The  light  would  fall,  the  peace  be  o'er, — 
Life's  poison  hold  my  life  once  more. 

Past  all.  —  Only  by  God's  sweet  grace 
Now  can  I  meet  thee,  — face  to  face. 

(60) 


THE   ROOTS    OF   LIFE. 

HY  fair,  new  chamber,  love,  I  see, — 
So  bright,  I  had  not  known; 

But,  in  it,  thou  hast  left  for  me  • 
This  crucifix  alone. 


And  by  that  sign  I  recognize 

That  sacred  symbol  still, — 
Thou  art  mine  own  beneath  the  skies,— 

In  happiness  or  ill. 

At  times  the  shadow  of  thy  doom 

Falls  o'er  a  smiling  land; 
None  reach  thee  in  thy  living  tomb,  - 

For  none  can  understand. 

And  then  a  weight,  men  call  despair, — 
Tightens  and  stops  thy  breath; 

(6:) 


STUDIES   OF  POEMS. 

And  then,  —  God's  crystal  azure  there 
Fades  to  a  mask  of  death. 

And  then,  love,  —  I  have  seen  thee  lie 
With  dust  upon  thy  head, —   . 

A  ghost  beneath  the  peaceful  sky, — 
And  than  the  dead  more  dead. 

But  is  it  that  thy  soul  could  be 
Spurned  thus  from  Love  divine?  — 

Beyond  this  darkness  could  I  see 
No  glorious  future  shine? 

Ah,  Love  !  —  the  death-in-life  we  meet, 

To  death  itself  might  blind. 
Ah,  Love !  —  can  any  words  be  sweet 

When  Love  is  not  behind?  — 

Those  days  are  passed  for  thee,  and  now 
Thou  walkest  in  the  light; 

(62) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

God  left  upon  thy  glorious  brow 
No  scars  to  tell  of  fight. 

Only,  —  thou  hast,  at  times,  a  gaze, 

His  chosen  ones  must  wear,  — 
Telling,  for  those  who  look,  of  days 

Saved  in  the  deeps  of  prayer. 

But  here  thou  art,  and  in  thy  hand 
My  own, —  the  strife  is  o'er;  — 

And  the  sweet  crucifix  must  stand 
Between  us,  evermore. 

And  words  like  these  seem  hovering  near, — 
By  wrath  and  tempest  nursed ; 

•  Love  thou  thy  God,  and  dare  not  fear,  — 
Because  He  loved  thee  first." 


(63) 


THE    PRISONER 
OF    THE    HUNGER    TOWER. 


AMONG  the  many  interesting  monuments  of  its  past  his 
tory  to  be  seen  in  the  old  Bohemian  city  of  Prague,  none 
is  more  fascinating  to  the  traveller  than  a  rude,  circular 
stone  structure,  dating,  apparently,  from  the  thirteenth 
or  fourteenth  centuries.  It  is  commonly  called  the 
"  Hunger  Tower,"  and,  as  its  too  suggestive  name  im 
plies,  those  who  had  specially  offended  against  the  laws 
of  the  State,  civil  or  religious,  were  there  put  to  death 
by  starvation.  .It  contains  two  upper  stories,  and  a 
dungeon  or  oubliette,  into  which  those  condemned 
to  suffer  the  worst  penalty  of  the  law,  were  lowered. 
The  two  upper  stories  contain  many  little  cells,  some 
with  rough,  unglazed  windows  barred  with  iron,  and 
others  with  a  simple  niche,  or  blind  window,  at  the  end. 
In  one  of  these  cells,  about  seven  feet  by  four,  many  of 
the  stones  from  this  niche  are  displaced,  and  lie  in  con 
fusion  with  the  hardened  mortar,  showing  plainly  that 
some  unfortunate  captive  had  made  desperate  efforts  to 
work  through  the  wall  in  this  direction,  and  so  reach 
the  outer  world*  from  which  he  must  have  felt  himself 
so  cruelly  debarred.  The  implements  he  used  can  only 

(64) 


STUDIES   FOR    POEMS. 


be  conjectured.  The  old  cicerone,  on  being  asked  what 
was  done  with  him  for  thus  attempting  to  escape, 
shrugged  her  shoulders  and  answered  indifferently,  u  Oh, 
taken  out  and  shot  next  day." 

stood  within  his  narrow  cell,  — 
So  narrow,  loathsome,  dim,— 
Was  there  a  God? — and  could  these 

cries,  — 
His  creature's,  reach  to  Him?  — 

He  looked  into  his  heart;  'twas  nought 
But  bitter  to  the  brim. 

"  I  know,"  he  thought,  "  this  morn  of  June,  — 

Outside,  the  lindens  play; 
The  love-birds  sing  their  madrigals,  — 

Soaring  from  earth  away  ; 
The  glorious  sun  looks  down  from  heaven 

Serene,  upon  the  day." 

"  My  God ! "  he  said ;  not  that  he  thought 
There  could  be  such  a  one,  — 

E  (65. 


STUDIES  FOE  POEMS. 

But  that  such  words  break  from  the  lips, 

When  man  is  most  undone, — 
Even  by  such  instinct   as  the  flowers 

Turn  with  to  seek  the  sun. 

He  said  no  more.  —  Goes  ever  aught 

So  deep  as  earth's  despair,  — 
Save  those  two  living,  dying  words, 

The  briefest,  longest  prayer  ? 
My  God  !  —  if  we  believe,.  He  is,  — 

Enough ;   our  life  is  there. 

As  in  some  torpid  trance  of  shame,— 

Slow  went  the  creeping  days; 
Sometimes  the  sunlight  burnt  to  flame, — 

Sometimes  it  sank  to  haze ;  — 
It  was  the  same  to  him ;  his  eyes 

On  stone  and  darkness  gaze. 

One  night,; — it  was  a  night  when  storm 
And  wind  were  on  the  blast, — 

(66) 


STUDIES   FOR   POEMS. 

His  hands,  cold  lying  on  the  stone, 
O'er  which  so  oft  they  passed, — 

Shrunk,  as  they  clutched  a  nail ;  he  felt 
A  flash  of  joy  at  last ! 

He  grasped  it  firm.  —  "  In  days  of  old,  — 
Now  dead  as  leaves  that  fall,  — 

Earth's  pomps  and  gauds  were  mine ;    those 

powers 
Whose  worth  we  dare  not  call ; 

And  now,  —  this  rusty  nail  shall  bear       . 
The  palm  before  them  all !  " 

He  groped  to  the  blind  niche,  that  turned 

Towards  the  outer  air; 
His  hands  were  strung  with  steel ;  he  lost 

A  moment,  his  despair ; 
And,  in  that  moment,  o'er  him  came 

A  thought,  —  that  was  a  prayer. 

He  worked,  he  toiled.      The  drops  would  st^nd 
Like  beads  upon  his  brow ; 


STUDIES   FOR    POEMS. 

The  tissues  of  that  hapless  frame 

Such  unused  toil  would  bow ; 
What  mattered  it?  —  his  breath  came  free,— 

He  had  an  interest  now ! 

Once,  tired,  he  leaned  against  the  wall; 

It  was  a  summer  night ; 
(Nought  guessing  how  he  might  have  come 

From  darkness  near  to  light ;) 
The  measured  sound  of  church  bells  came 

Piercing  that  stony  might ! 

Was  it  he  who  heard?     The  hands  fell  free,— 

The  heart  forgot  its  fears; 
He,  in  that  moment,  tenderly 

Recalled  his  vanished  years ; 
And,  as  he  listened,  could  it  be? 

This,  —  that  he  felt,  —  was  tears. 

'I  have  walked,"  he  said,  uin  such  a  blur 
Of  horror  and  of  pain, 

(68) 


STUDIES   FOR   POEMS. 

I  wonder  not  the  bitterness 

Has  gone  into  my  brain ; 
I  deemed  not  God  could  so  be  God, — 

To  give  such  hour  again ! " 

He  listened  to  that  music  still, 

With  thoughts  so  sweet  and  strange  ! 

Upon  the  breathless  dungeon  air, — 
There  passed  a  sudden  change; 

Whence  came  these  sounds?  —  and  whence 

these  eyes 
That  o'er  him  seemed   to  range? 

They  noted  all ;  the  rusty  nail 

Fallen  down  upon  the  floor ; 
The  misplaced  stones,  that  told  the  tale 

Of  hope  revived  once  more ; 
The  prisoner's  face,  though  wan  and  pale, — 

Lit  by  the  dreams  of  yore ! 

Each  noted,  with  triumphal  brow; 
For  him  the  die  was  cast; 


* 

STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

This  life  of  all  mysterious  woe  ; 

Foreknew  its  conflicts  passed. 
His  days  were  justly  forfeit  now 

To  the  outraged  laws  at  last  I 

th  Prisoner,"  the  eldest  said,  "  you  were  pent 

Here  in  this  narrow  room; 
Men  well  had  deemed  you  penitent,  — 

Hid  in  such  dungeon  gloom ; 
Now  merc}^  pleads  in  vain ;  you  are  sent 

To-morrow  to  your  doom  !  " 

The  door  clanged  close  —  The  mournful  eyes,— 

Dazed  by  that  cruel  light, — 
Fell  back  upon  their  destinies, — 

The  shadow  and  -the  night ; 
And  yet,  —  and  yet,  —  not  quite  the  same  ; — 

They  had  known  at  last  their  might ! 
A  shiver  rustled  through  his  frame ; 

A  shiver,  —  not  of  fear  ; 

(7°) 


STUDIES   FOR   POEMS. 

His  eyes  were  fixed,  yet  one  might  see 

Their  vision  soft  and  clear; 
And  yet,  —  he  crouched  upon  the  ground,- 

A»  though  some  foe  were  near. 

Was  it  so  to  end,  —  the  agony 
Of  that  most  bitter  breath, — 

The  dreams,  the  aspirings,  that  would  see 
How  slow  Hope  perisheth, — 

Then  the  after  quiet,  that  must  be 
At  last,  —  the  spirit's  death? 

Earth's  battles  are  forever  so 
Through  all  conflicting  powers ; 

Soil  must  be  tortured  ere  it  show 
The  summer  fruits  and  flowers ; 

No  eye  but  God's  could  ever  know 
Of  his  last  earthly  hours. 

The  morn  is  here  !  —  In  sullen  file 
The  guards  before  the  gate 

R 


STUDIES   FOR  POEMS. 

Are  gathered ;  then,  a  little  while 

Below  the  lindens  wait ;  — 
And  then,  —  they  enter,  and  they  stand 

To  bear  him  to  his  fate.  * 

He  is  led  forth  !  —  How  does  he  look, — 

O  men,  of  women  born? 
Fiends  might  their  lesson  take  from  you, — 

Of  cruelty  and  scorn, — 
Vet,  —  he  has  little  left  to  bear 

Upon  this  summer  morn. 

Still  in  the  court-yard  stands  a  tree, 

Lopped,  dreary  and  aghast; 
Stands  where  that  prisoner,  gagged  and  bound. 

Before  the  axe  was  cast, — 
Where,  in  God's  gentle  sunshine,  he 

From  night  to  morning  passed ! 

This  happ'd,  —  how  many  years  agone? 
That  know  not  I,  nor  care ; 

(72) 


STUDIES   FOR   POEMS. 

His  dungeon  stands,  to  witness  still ; 

The  stones  all  broken  there ; 
Is  it  so  strange,  is  it  so   new, — 

That  life  should  be  despair? 

In  the   other  world  at  last,  O  God ! 

When   light  shall  vanquish  gloom, — 
Can  we  not,   in   some   moment,  know 

The  mystery   of  his  doom, — 
And  how  far   Thou  permitt'st  the   shades 

Of  death  beyond  the  tomb  ? 


(73) 


THE   MYSTICAL   LAND. 

TOW  do   I  go,  my  Heart,   when   I   go 

Into   the   Mystical   Land?" 
Thou  sittest  by   a  river  slow, 

That  flows  into   the  sand, — 
Thou  watchest,  far  above,   the  skies 

In  gold  and  crystal  gleam,  - 
Earth's  fiercest  roar  about  thee  dies, — 

Thou  walkest  in  a  dream. 
For  not  one  moment  canst  thou  know 

The  bitterness,  the  strife, 
The  whirl  of  waters  that  below 

Make  up  what  we  call   Life; 
If  faintest  thought,  if  slightliest  sound 

Of  earth  thy  spirit  stain,  — 
Then  leav'st  thou,  for  that  dreary  round, 

The  Mystic  Land  again  !  " 
(74) 


STUDIES   FOR   POEMS. 

"  What  do  I  do,  my  Heart,  when  I  go 

Into  the  Mystical  Land?" 
"  This  is  thy  doing  there,  —  to  know 

That  thou  dost  understand 
That  life  is  love,   and  love  is  life, 

And  the  Love  of  Love  is  there,— 
There  is   an   end  to   thoughts   of  strife, — 

To   the   poison   of  despair ; 
The   night   of  sorrow  ends ;   for  this 

Thou  knewest  could  not  last ; 
Thou  fmd'st,  in  very  truth,  thy  bliss 

Is  more   for  what  is  past.  — 
Such  draughts  of  peace  thou  drinkest  there, 

That  like  a  river  flow,  — 
Thou  art  thankful  for  the  old  despair ; 

What  is  there  more  to   know?  " 

44  Can  it  ever  be,  this  side  the   grave, 
My   Heart,  — the   Mystic   land?" 

(75) 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

So   tenderly  she  answered  me,  — 
And  I  felt  her   understand ; 

"Is,   then,   this  earth  one  pleasure-ground, 

All   dazzling   to   the   sight,  — 
Where   only  happiness  is  found, — 

Morning,   and  noon,   and   night? 
Are   there   no   thoughts   of   anguish  drear, 

No  lead  within  the  breast,  — 
No  passion,   that  must  die   of  fear, — 

Before  its  mvn   unrest? 
Thou  knewest  that  question  came  in  vain," 

Thus  said  my  Heart  to  me ; 
"  We   are   sent  into   this  world,   to   gain 

The   next  through  agony.'" 

ifc  Ah  me,  what  shudderings  then,  my  Heart, 

To  reach  the   Mystic  Land ! 
I    could  almost  yield  my  little   part, — 
I  cannot  understand  !  " 

(76 ) 


If) 

STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

It  is   not  meant  that   eyes   should  see 

Clear  in  this  bitter  place ; 
When  it  is  vanished,  they  may  be 

Serene  and  face  to  face. 
If  He,  the   Captain   of    our  war, — 

Conquered  through  suffering  all, — 
How  should'st  thou  dread  to  look  afar, — 

Hearing  His  trumpet-call? 
Be  patient  through  the  agony 

Thou  canst  not  understand ; 
In  thy  Lord's   smile,   shall   smile  for  thee 

At  last,  —  the   Mystic   Land!" 


(77) 
* 


IN   MILAN   CATHEDRAL. 

(APKIL,  1871.) 

J  WANDERER,  pausing  at  the  door,  - 

Doubting  of  things  divine,— 
The  wearier  thou  of  life,  —the  more 

All  this  domain  is  thine. 
For  thee,   upon  that  altar  high,— 

The  symbol-splendours  blaze; 
Upwards,  with  clouds  of  incense,  % 

Yearnings  that  fill  thy  days; 
For  thee  maintains  each  column  proud 

The  worship  of  the  years; 
For  thee  the  lofty  arch  is  bowed,— 

As  even  with   mortal  fears; 
For  thee,  O  stricken,  cowering  heir 

Of  bliss  and  love  untold, 

Visions  thy  weakness  scarce  can  bear,— 
Immortal  deeps  unfold ! 
(78) 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

Enter.  —  The  depths  of  music   fill 

These  echoing  spaces  fair; 
Thy  heart  can  only  beat  to  thrill ;- 

Thy  silence  turns  to   prayer. 
The   air  of  death  that  girds  around 

Thy  spirit  and  thy  life, — 
Sinks  from  thee  on  this  blessed  ground, — 

With  holy  victories  rife  ; 
Thy  heart,  beyond  its  longings  weak, — 

Has,  for  the   moment,  flown ; 
Earth's  bitter  voices  cannot  speak 

Where  Heaven's  is  heard  alone. 
Thou  think'st  that  God  has  left  thee ;  know'st 

No  world  but  thy  despair ;  — 
If,   to  its  very  deeps   thou   throw'st 

Thy  look,  then,  —  He   is   there  !  * 


*  The  Rev.  F.  W.  Faber's  idea  was,  that  in  the  very  depths  of 
mortal  agony,  if  we  looked  for  God  around  or  outside  of  us,  we 
could  not  find  Him;  that  in  turning  back  upon  our  own  hearts, 
we  found  Him  there. 

(79) 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

O  worlds  that  from  the  soul  can  sweep 

The   sickening  of  its  pain!  — 
O  worlds  that  hold  such  cordials  deep 

For  heart  and  blood  and   brain  I 
Worlds  that  in  giving  death  to  pride,— 

Uplift   us  to  the  sky; 
Worlds  that  beneath  this  roof  abide,— 

Within  these  cloisters  lie, — 
Worlds  whose  spells  waft  us  to  His 

throne,  — 

The  Lord  of  Heavenly  powers,— 
Who  for  our  sakes  made  death  His  own,  - 

That  so  might  life  be  ours; 
Most  merciful!   where'er  they  roam, — 

These  souls  which  Thou  hast  made,  - 
Here  must  they  breathe  the  air  of  home,' 
Here  Earth's  proud  waves  be  stayed.  ' 


(So) 


THE    GRAVE    OF    FENICE. 

'frHE  rests,  then  ! — Solemn  be  that  rest,- 
After '  life's  fever,  sleep  ! 


That  heart,  with  passionate  hopes 

oppressed, 

With  longings  strange  and  deep,  — 
Has  found  its  quiet.      O'er  her,  here, — 

How  soft  the  grasses  wave ! 
O  stranger !      Bring  thy  hope,  thy  fear,  - 
Not  unto  this  fair  grave ! 

She  who  rests  here, —  I  cannot  see 

One  touch  of  nature  fled! 
Ever,   in  lingering  thought,   to  me, — 

She  lives,  —  she  is  not  dead ! 
It  is  as  though,  by   some  strange  chance, — 

Wandering,   with  spirit  sore, — 

F  (81) 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

I   might  behold  that  upward  glance, — 
Fenice  !  mine   once  more ! 

Sixteen.     Those  years  when  some  have  told,- 

They  are   but  children   still; 
Life's  deeps,   as  yet,  may  not  unfold, — 

The   slumbering  heart  to   thrill; 
But  she,  —  when  dropt  God's  sudden  call 

Into  her  youthful  sky, — 
It  was  as  she  had  known  the   All 

And  now,  —  could  only  die  ! 

The  All!     But  she  had  known  a  youth, — 

Rich  with  imperial  hours ; 
Steeped  in  a  natural  girlish   truth, — 

Balmy  with  breath  of  flowers; 
Life  said,  in  accents  that  seemed  true, — 
"  My  child  !     I  give  thee  days 
To  wind,   'neath  skies  of  deepest  blue, — 

Only  in    radiant  ways." 
(82) 


STUDIES   FOR   POEMS. 

She  listened,  she  believed;  her  ear 

Could  but  such  promise  greet; 
Nor  might  a  thought  intrude,  of  fear, 

Beside  its  music  sweet; 
She  walked,  as  reading  a  fair  tale, 

Down  some   enchanted  land: 
Sudden  the  brilliance  seemed  to  fail,  — 

The  book  fell  from  her  hand ! 

And  she  beheld,  where  Fancy  drew 

Arcades  of  glorious  bloom, — 
That,   through  a  mist,  her  pathway  grew 

A  pathway  to  the  tomb  ! 
That  gentle   spirit,   warmed   and   cheered 

By  all  it  met  below, 
Was  doomed.     What  then  she  felt,  or  feared, 

I   do   not  seek   to  know. 

« 
But  this   I   know,  —  that  here,   serene, — 

Safe   from  the   world's   cold  breath, — 


STUDIES   FOR  POEMS. 

My  fair  Fenice  lies,   a  queen, — 
Sleeping  the  sleep  of  death  !  • 

The  pale  hands  crossed ;  —  I  know,  even  yet, 
In  thought,   their  touch  benign; 

And  closed  the  eyes,  which  never  met 
With  aught  but  sweetness,  mine  ! 

We  were  together  once,  in  truth ; 

Our  souls   together;   still 
Those   so  departed  days  of  youth 

Come  back,   one  heart  to  thrill; 
,  But  now,  —  a  wanderer  I  must  be, — 

Bound  on  some  wayward  quest,  — 
While,   set  so  far  apart  from  me, 

She  lies  in  holy  rest. 


ELMIRE'S    PORTRAIT. 

eyes  were  deep,  her  face  serene; 
The   presence   of   a  crowned   queen 
Was  hers ;  with  every  word  she  spake 
A  beauty  over  life  would  break. 
No  meaner  thoughts   could  live,  that  you 
Once  brought  before  that  earnest  view; 
Despair  was   not,   beneath  the   skies, — 
When  you  had  looked  into   her  eyes. 
The   petty  things,  the   common   ways, 
That  fill  so   much  of  all   our  days, — 
Were   not  the  same,  methinks,   to   her; — . 
The   pulses  of  her  life   would  stir 
With  larger  meanings,   loftier  powers; 
Her  soul  stood  nearer  home  than  ours. 
The  strength  one  mortal  life  may  hold, — 
Can  it  by  word   or  pen,   be   told  ? 


CHURCH    BELLS   IN   VENICE. 

(SANTA    ZACARIA.) 


]  HEY  steal  me  back  to  other  days,  — 

They  smooth  to  youth  my  brow ; 
As  through  Venetian  air  I  gaze, — 
They  flood  the  landscape  now. 


They  lift  the  struggling  spirit  high 

Out  of  its  pains  and  woe, 
Arid  set  it  near  some  cloudless  sky, — 

As   in  the   long  ago ; 

They  praise,  entreat,  complain,  adore, — 
They  soothe  and  they  awake, — 

Sound-waves  that  strike  some  holier  shore, 
And  the  soul's  silence  break, — 

(  86) 

I* * 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

Earth's  self-reproach  and  penitence 
Seems  uttered  in  their  tone; 

Clouds  gather  round  their  heights  intense, 
To  mortal  eyes  unknown. 

Yet  still  those  echoes,  rising  true,  — 
Earth's  deadlier  vapors  part,  — 

And  in  the  space  they  leave,  we  view 
All,  that  should  fill  the  heart. 


(87) 


TO   A   FRIEND. 

HEN   first   I   met  your  glance,   my 

friend, 

Some  instinct  seemed  to  speak,  — 
And  murmur,  "  Here  life's  quest  may 

end; 
Behold  the  heart  you  seek ! 


"  Long,  long  the  watch,  the  waiting ;  long 

The  hope,  the  fell  despair ;  — 
A  Presence  rises  from  the  throng, 
The  answer  to  thy  prayer! 

"Now  drop  the  burden  of  thy  fears, 

Thy  sorrows  put  away; 
The  light  that  in  thy  East  appears 
Shines  to  the  perfect  day. 

(88) 


STUDIES  FOR    POEMS. 

For  thee  no  more  the  bitter  gloom, 
The  threatenings  of  the  past ; 

Thy  spirit,  ransomed  from  its  tomb, 
'Scapes  to  its  life  at  last ! " 


What  was  thy  charm?     Not  till  this  hour 
Could  earthly  spell  command, 

For  me  the  witchery  and  the  power 
Held  in  thy  careless  hand ! 

Was  it,  that  in  some  vanished  year, 
—  Lost,  lost  in  mists  of  yore,  — 

Thy  soul  was  part  of  mine,  —  and  here 
Reclaimed  its  own  once  more? 

I  know  not.     Friend,  thou  may'st  not  see 
(Thou  should'st  not,  —  it  is  best,) 

All  thy  affection  is  to  me, 
My  refuge  and  my  rest ! 

(89; 


STUDIES   FOR    POEMS. 

The  clouds  may  lower  around,  and  dart 
The  lightnings  on  the  gale  ; 

But, — still  thine  image  in  my  heart, — 
On  !  on !   I  will  not  quail ! 


(9°) 


A   FIRST   VIEW    OF   QUEBEC. 

RIGHT  in  the  morning  fair, 
Bright  through  the  summer  air, 
Gilded  with  sunshine  rare, 

Quebec  was  seen. 
Floated  and  curled  in  light 
The  crested  wavelets  bright, 
Around  her  guardian  might  — 
The  Fortress-Queen  ! 

I  knew  her  —  far  away, 
Before  we  reached  the  bay, 
Mine  eyes  could  mark  the  sway 

Of  rampart-towers; 
Before  her  walls  I  knew, 
Some  instinct  told  me  true 
How  near  I  was  to  view 

Those  ancient  powers  ! 

(90 


If 

STUDIES   FOR    POEMS. 

Near  —  nearer  yet   we  came, 
Rose  dark  her  heights  of  fame 
Against  that  field  of  flame, 

The  morning  sky ; 
Frowned  down  embrasures  deep,  — 
Gleamed  cannon  on  the  steep,  — 
Flew  stern  above  her  keep 

One  flag  on  high ! 

Nor  for  the  eye  alone 
These  radiant  pictures  shone; 
The  lore  of  cycles  flown 
Seemed  garnered  .here ; 
The  Present  and  the  Past 
Together  smiled  at  last  — 
Spells  round  these  walls  were  cast 

That  yet  are  near ! 

#  *  *  * 

Dark  years  have  rushed  between 
Me  and  that  radiant  scene, — 


* 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

Old  memories  quick  and  keen, 
Are  quenched  in  night; 

Yet,  with  hope's  wakening  thrill, 

Before  my  vision  still 

That  city  on  the  hill 
Arises  bright ! 

Let  but  a  stranger's  praise 
And  long  remembrance,  raise 
Some  sign  upon  the  ways,  — 

At  least,  —  'tis  true  ; 
And  stand  thou  firm  in  power, 
Braced  for  the  darkest  hour  — 
May  none  around  thee  lower! 

Quebec,  —  adieu  ! 


(93) 


TWO   SPRINGS. 

AST  Spring,  when  early  on  us  fell 

A  blissful,  sunlit  day  — 
When   Winter's  ear  might  trace  the 

knell 
Foretelling  his  decay, 


I?  —  all  my  heart  borne  down  with  woe,  — 

Swift  to  thy  dwelling  sped, 
If  haply  from  thy  lips  might  flow 

Some  comfort  for  my  dread. 

I  found  thee  in  thy  chamber  fair 
Girt  round  with  leaves  and  flowers ; 

I  might  have  thought  my  footsteps  there 
Strayed  in  a  fairy's  bowers. 

•'  94 ; 
4 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

I  heard  thy  gentle  lips  renew 

The  hopes  of  earlier  years; 
How  swift  those  happy  moments  flew, 

That  woke  me  from  my  fears ! 

And  yet,  THY  life  was  dark  —  no  more 
Its  vanished  suns  could  shine  ; 

How,  my  heart  shamed  itself  before 
The  sweet  content  of  thine ! 

I  went  —  and  with  thy  parting  smile 

Some  fancy  whispered  free, 
Ah,  how  our  friendship  shall  beguile 

The  shades  of  Springs  to  be ! " 


Once  more  the  Spring  looks  down  in  light 

On  forest,  mount  and  plain ; 
Borne  on  victorious  sunbeams  bright 

Her  love  is  ours  again. 

(95) 


* * 

STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

Arid  yet,  —  as  to  thy  chamber  sweet 
My  thoughts  were  wont  to  stray,  — 

Now,  if  that  memory  loved  they  meet, 
They  shrink,  and  turn  away. 

And,  where  my  steps  would  turn  to  thee. 

And  linger  at  thy  door, 
They  —  while  I  own  mortality,  — 

Shall  linger — nevermore! 

I  pictured  for  thee  Spring-times  true 

Of  earthly  light  and  love  ; 
Even  while  I  hoped,  thy  spirit  knew 

Eternal  Spring  above ! 


(96) 


IN  AUTUMN. 

Y  walks  lie  now  among  the  leaves, 

Crimson,  and  gold,  and  brown; — 
For  Nature  her  sweet  broidery  weaves 
O'er  all  the  dreary  town. 


Slow  wandering,  in  some  nook  I  stand, 
And  linger — while  the  grace 

Now  spreading  broadcast  o'er  the  land, 
Shines  "  in  a  shady  place  ! " 

The  mountain  from  these  slopes  is  seen 
A  rainbowed,  dazzling  height, 

As  if  the  summer's  sombre  green 
Had  lost  itself  in  light. 

And  still  no  glare  upon  the  sky, — 
But  softest,  dreamiest  rays 

G  (97) 


* 

STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

Look  down  through  mists  to  sanctify 
These  mellow  Autumn  days  ! 

Yet  never  did  fair  scene  but  bring 
Some  thoughts  that  were  not  fair; 

The  shadow  of  a  phantom  wing 
Forever  in  the  air ! 

Why — when  these  Autumn  leaflets  fall, 

So  coldly  and  so  sere, — 
Should  they  those  vanished  hours  recall, 

Made  by  thy  presence  dear? 

Ah !  friend ! — Those  memories  bring  to  me 

Not  bliss  so  much  as  pain ; 
The  burden  of  my  thought  must  be, 

When  shall  we  meet  again? 


(98) 


A    CHRISTMAS    SONG. 

GAIN  !  the  skies  are  chilling  now ; 

The  snow  is  on  the  ground ; 
Winter,  with  sullen,  old-time  brow, 

Looks  haughtily  around. 
But  faces  gay,  and  hearts  as  light 

As  sunbeams,  tell  at  last 
We  dare  to  hope  for  something  bright 
Before  the  year  is  past ! 


Upon  these  days  the  sunlight  gleams 
More  peaceful  and  more  fair; 

Can  it  be  fancy?  but  there  seems 
A  fragrance  in  the  air ; 

That  subtle  brightness  quivers  through 
Skies  gray  with  winter's  cold; 

(99) 


* : * 

STUDIES   FOR   POEMS. 

That  fragrance,  —  'tis  the  same  we  knew 
On  many  a  morn  of  old  ! 

Conflicts  may  o'er  our  souls  have  passed, 

So  deadly  and   so  deep, 
That,  while  we  live,  the  shadows  cast 

Will  haunt  us  as  we  sleep ; 
A  light  may  from  our  hearts  have  gone 

That  nothing  can  restore ;  — 
But,  all  the  same,  life  passes  on 

With  joy  to  thousands  more  ! 

Now  —  well-remembered  pictures  crowd 

Where'er  we  turn  our  eyes : 
Upon  bleak  fields  the  snowy  shroud, 

Direct  from  Heaven,  lies ; 
And  there  is  peace  on  all  around, 

As  in  the  ancient  days  ; 
And,  ever  rising  from  the  ground, 

The  wealth  of  prayer  and  praise ! 

(100) 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

Oh  !  might  we  but,  in  sweet  content, 

Accept  the  mighty  will ! 
Thanks,  Lord,  for  all  Thy  mercies  sent 

To  erring   mortals  still; 
So  constant,  all  our  lives  we  knew 

Their  brightness  round  us  cast; 
So  many,  undeserved  and  true, 

We  dare  not  count   at  last ! 


(101) 


THE    CHOICE. 


"  It    is  better  to  be  sitting   than   standing,  better  lyin< 
down  than  sitting,  dead  than  lying  down." 

EASTERN  PROVERB. 


WERE  well,  me  thinks,  at  freshening 

dawn, 

(Within  thy  heart  its  lightness,) 
To  stand,  and  watch,  upon  the  lawn, 
The  land  aflame  with  brightness; 
To  trace,  upon   his  upward  way, 

The  lark  at  distance  flying ; 

So  standing,  to  forget  the  day,  — 

The  strife  around  thee  lying. 


Better  to  sit !    as  it  might  be, 
That  half-lit  thought  divining, 

(    102) 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

Couches,  of  quaintest  broidery, 

Await  but  thy  re-dining. 
If  in  its  loneliness  the  scene 

Thy  drooping  thought  abashes, 
Beside  thee  may  some  loved  one  lean, 

While  the  warm  fire-light  flashes. 

Better  to  lie  !     The  curtains  drawn, 

The  bed  all   quiet — lonely; 
While  thou,  upon  it,  waitest   dawn,— 

Dreading  its  brightness  only. 
Still  in  thy  heart  is  Passion's  throne  ; 

New  hopes  are  round  thee  starting  ;  — 
Though  from  thee  —  to  thyself  unknown, 

The  ancient  life  is  parting. 

Best  to  be  dead ! — Thus  liest  thou  now ; 

No  more  a  pilgrim,  weeping  ; 
The  haven  reached,  —  upon   thy  brow 

At  last  a  peace  is  sleeping. — 


* 

STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

Thy  struggles  —  they  are  past  and  gone  ; 

Theirx  shade  no  longer  o'er  thee  ; 
Thou  wak'st  —  to  find  another  dawn,  — 

Another  life  before  thee. 


EULALIE   DE   LA   PROVIDENCE. 


(DIED  MARCH,  1875.) 

E  stood  within  the  holy  place 

Of  penitence  and  prayer ; 
Even  with  the  sunbeams  on  her  face, 

I  could  not  think  her  fair. — 
Not  hers  youth's  calmly  radiant  pride, 

Nor  beauty's  softer  glow ; 
Those  spells  whose  powers  so  often  hide 
The  barrenness  below. 

I  see  her  still,  —  as  silently 

She  stood  there,  pale  and  meek,  — 

A  worn-out  nun,  —  no  light  in  eye, 
Nor  colour  in  her  cheek ! 

But  yet,  some  fire  divine  had  cast 

Her  life  within  its  mould, 

( 105) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

And  all  the  story  of  that  past 
Upon  her  face  was  told. 

In  every  deep-ploughed   line  the  token 

Lay,  of  some  touching  grace ; 
Though  the   heart's  joy-spring  might  be 
broken, 

Yet,  Peace  had  ta'en  its  place ! 
Self-conquest,  Patience,  Love,  Regret,  — 

By  Truth's  unfaltering  hand; 
Were  not  these  symbols  clearly  set 

For  all  to  understand? 

She  knelt ;  the  rest  her  looks  had  worn 

Seemed  deepening  round  her  there ; 
And  half  I  felt  my  spirit  borne 

Onwards  to  meet  her  prayer. 
Such  dreams,  perhaps,  as  conquerors  choose 

Before  her  thoughts  might  rise, 
As  from  the  windows  different  hues 

Crossed  her  uplifted  eyes. 


STUDIES   FOR   POEMS. 

I  staid,  —  how  long,  I  do  not  know  ;— 

Some  spell  was  o'er  me  cast ; 
A  lingerer  I,  who  might   not  go 

Until  that  prayer  was  past ! 
But  she  has  risen ;  and  now,  I  see 

(The  lauds,  lamentings,  said, — ) 
That  form  move  onward  reverently, 

With  bent  and  drooping  head. 

But  then  her  looks,  by  some  strange  chance 

Fell  on  me,  —  there,  apart ; 
Startled,  I  met  one  searching  glance, 

That  seemed  to  read  my  heart ; 
I  looked  away ;  they  shone  too  bright,  — 

Too  keen,  —  those  eyes  of  prayer  ; 
It  was  as  when  we  shrink  from  light 

More  than  our  strength  can  bear. 

I  rose,  and  all  the  treacherous  blood 
Rushed  fiercely  to  my  heart 


STUDIES  FOB  POEMS. 

As  in  the  silence  there  we  stood, 

So  near,  yet  so  apart ! 
Outward  I  passed. — That  nun  and  I, 

Never  again  may  meet, 
But  memory  bids  me,  till  I  die, 

Cherish  the  vision  sweet. 


(108) 
* 


CHURCH 
OF   NOTRE   DAME   DE   BONSECOURS. 

(ERECTED    1773.) 

EAR  relic  of  a  fruitful  Past! 
Not  yet  thy  work  is  done, 
Though   ninety  years  have   o'er  thee 

cast 

Their  shadow  and  their  sun  ; 
Thou  wearest  yet,  serene  and  free, — 

The  ancient  stately  grace, 
And  strangers  come,  to  look  on  thee, — 
And  know  thee  in  thy  place  I 

The  autumn  breeze,  in  tenderest  mood, — 

Its  magic  on  thee  lays; 
And  ever  o'er  thee  seems  to  brood 

The  light  of  other  days. 


•* 


STUDIES   FOR   POEMS. 

The  mart  is  close ;  more  swiftly  on 

Rushes  the  living  tide ! 
On  all,  methinks,  those  cycles  gone, 

Breathe  as  they  pass  thy  side. 

What  tales  thy  stones  could  tell — of  power, 

Of  promise  and  decay,  — 
The  glorious  visions  of  an  hour 

That  rose  and  passed  away! 
What  scenes  those  silent  walls  might  see  ! 

Vain  suppliance,  —  mad  regret, 
Whose  memory,  in  these  days,  may  be 

A  troubled  darkness  yet ! 

Thy  aisles  the  swelling  strains  have  known, 

Of  Victory's  days  of  pride  ; 
A  radiance  through  their  gloom  has  shone 

On  bridegroom  and  on  bride. 
And  then — those  other  seasons  grew, — 

When  Plague  was  in  the  air,  — 


STUDIES   FOR  POEMS, 

When  myriads  saw  their  doom,  and  knew 
Nothing  was  left  —  but  Prayer. 


Those  days  are 
Thou  lookest 


o'er!     Still  to  the  skies 
full  and  free; 


Firm,  as  we  hope,  thou  yet  mayst  rise. 


For 


yeai 


to  be. 


many 
All  round  thee  altered ;  landmarks  flown, 

The  ways,  the  looks  of  yore ; 
But  the  Man's  nature  thou  hast  known, 

That  changes  —  nevermore  ! 


(in) 


CLOTHO,  LACHESIS,  ATROPOS. 


I. 

NE,  young,  lay  dying.     Quiet,  now 

The  smooth  and  silver  tongue ; 
And  careless,  from  the  death-hued 

brow 
The  matted  curls  were  flung. 


Scarce  on  the  pillow  moved  his  head; 

Yet,  resting  ever  there,  — 
Solemn  and  stately  as  the  dead, 

And,  like  them,  coldly  fair,  — 

A  woman  sat.  —  Through  all  the  gloom 
Of  deepening  night,  her  face 

Passionless,  rayless,  in  that  room 
Kept  its  appointed  place. 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

Who  is  she  ? — In  her  eyes  no  tears, 

No  pity,  and  no  strife ;          « 
She  is  uthe  Fury  with  the  shears 

To  slit  the  thin-spun  life." 

II. 

The  hours  passed  onward. — Still  the  same 
That  haunted  chamber's  sleep,  — 

When  from  the  sick  man's  couch  there  came 
A  muttering,  low  but   deep. 

For  groans  his  lips  had  vainly  striven, 
But  now  they  spoke  in  power;  — 

It  was  as  subtle  strength  were  given 
Before  the  final  hour. 

Those  lips,  alas ! — spoke  nought  of  prayer, 

Of  penitence, .  or  praise  ; 
They  told,  in  those  last  moments  there, — 

The  story  of  his  days. 

H  (us) 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

III. 

I  was  a  child.     The  earth,  the  sky, — 
The  long-descending  beam,  — 

Made  Life  tri£  all  I  could  not  fly ; 
A  riddle,  and  a  dream. 

Its  web  above  me  grew  and  grew,  — 

Woven  in  a  mystic  shroud; 
While  my  wild  heart  existence  drew 

From  every  flower  and  cloud.  — 

And  if  the  skies  were  dim,  I  brought 
My  hopes  to  darkening  lands; 

And  if  the  heaven  was  fair,  methought 
My  spirit  clapped  her  hands. 

O  Sun!  O  Mother!  —  thou  wert  mine, — 

In  those  fair  summers  past; 
The  days  I  worshiped  at  thy  shrine,  — 

Hast  thou  forgot  at  last? 

("4) 


STUDIES  FOE   POEMS. 

It  is  so  much  to  breathe,  to  be, — 
More  than  all  words  have  told !  — 

My  eyes,  in  Death's  deep  shadows,  see 
More  clearly  than  of  old. 

This  was  my  time,  —  that  time  when  I 

Before  my  days  of  strife, — 
Knew  not  what  fate  should  o'er  me  lie, 

But  lived  an  inward  life. 


IV. 

The  days  passed  on. — The  shadows  deep 

Of  Life  upon  me  rose. 
I  had  done  with  fairy  tales  of  sleep, — 

I  had  to  meet  my  foes. 

The  World,  the  Flesh,  the  Devil !  —  See ! 

I  have  known  them,  each  and  all; 
If  Saint  Aloysius  had  been  me, — 

He  had  answered  to  their  call. 

("5) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

But  one  thing  might  have  saved  me  yet, — 

I  asked  a  perfect  friend ; 
One  to  reproach  not,  nor  forget,  — 

But  love  unto  the  end. 

Thou,  in  Thy  righteousness  full  soon, 

O  Lord !  didst  fix  my  lot ; 
I  had  not  merited  such  boon, — 

And  so,  —  Thou  gav'st  it  not. 

V. 

The  days  passed  on.  —  In  manhood's  prime 

All  know  some  radiant  hours; 
Are  there  not  also  things  whose  slime 

One  finds  among    the  flowers  ? — 

Everywhere,  everywhere  the  same  ; 

Wherever  eyes  may  fall, — 
Or  thought  pause,  —  still  the  hue  of  shame, 

The  serpent's  trail  o'er  all. 

(116  } 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

My  visions  fell  before  me  then, — 
Fell,  —  for  they  could  not  save. 

Deceitful  are  the  hearts  of  men,  — 
And  cruel  as  the  grave." 

From  my  youth  up  Thy  terrors,  Lord, — 
I  have  suffered  in  my  mind." 

When  I  am  gone,  be  this  dread  word 
The  last  I  leave  behind. 

VI. 

Life  spread  before  me,  a  vast  plain, — 
More  boundless  than  the  sea; 

I  walked  on,  wondering,  in  my  pain, — 
Such  its  immensity. 

I  walked  on  and  my  feet  would  tire, — 
And  stumble  here  and  there; 

It  was  as  though  Life's  central  fire 
Died  in  a  thought's  despair. 

("7) 


STUDIES   FOR   POEMS. 

And,  sudden  as  I  looked,  —  my  brow 

Scars  of  remorse,  regret,  — 
I  felt  the  end  was  nearing  now,  — 

Life's  bitter  sun  would  set. 

Ah  !  did  I  mourn  ? — When  one  has  lain 
Long  years  on  dungeon-floor, — 

Is  it  sad  there  comes  an  end  to  pain, — 
That  Angels  ope  the  door? 

My  God  !  my  God !     Thou  gav'st  me  life 

Without  my  wish  or  will ; 

• 

Thou  doom'st  me  not,  through    wastes  of 

strife, — 
To  walk  and  suffer  still. 

Thou,  my  Soul,  knowest,  whatever  lies 
'    Beyond  this  life  of  ours,  — 
Can  not  be  bitterer  than  its  sighs,  — 
More  fading  than  its  flowers. 


* 

STUDIES   FOE    POEMS. 

And,  be  this  natural  thrill  of  fear,  - 

Be  it  exulting  pride, — 
I  know  not, — but  my  foes'  shall  hear 
uHe  lives,  —  and  he  has  died." 

u Their  murmurs,  like  the  ocean-sands,— 

About  my  thoughts  are  blown. 
I  am  taken  from  their  cruel  hands,  — 
And  rest  with  Death  alone. 

VII. 

uAh,  Lord!  —  these  bitter  words  forgive, — 

Wrung  from  my  agony ! 
Thou  hast  known  well  what  it  was  to  live, 
And  earnest  here  to  die. 

"Thou  knowest  my  heart  is  only  dumb 

Through  all  it  longs  to  say ; 
Thou  knowest  this  bitterness  has  come 
From  hopes  that  went  astray. 

("9) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

"Thou  knowest  this  soul  of  mine  is  dull, 

Poisoned  with  anguish  past. 
Oh,  is  it  not  most  merciful 
Man  shall  not  judge  at  last  ? 

"  I  can  recall  one  angel  fair,  — 

Who  has  run  the  bitter  race,  — 
Loved  me  on  earth  and  loves  me  there, 
Before  the  throne  of  grace. 

"  In  life  Thou  gav'st  her,  Lord,  to  me, 

To  warn,  console,  and  guide ; 
In  my  death-hour,  O  let  me  see 
That  vision  at  my  side ! " 


The  gasping  voice  died  down ;  that  voice 

Once  all  overflowing  power  ; 
Its  weakness  might  his  heart  rejoice, — 

Sign  of  the  mystic  hour. 


120  ) 


STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

There  raised  itself  a  wasted  hand, — 

And  pointed  to  the  door. 
Atropos  rose. — I  saw  her  stand 

Beside  his  couch  no  more. 

But  when  the  morn,  slow  glimmering  red, — 

Her  rays  upon  him  cast, — 
He  has  seen  the  Angel," — then  I  said; 
4<  She  was  with  him  at  the  last." 


THE   FAIR   BRIDEGROOM. 

SWEET,  sweet  Death!  Thou  seem'st 
Oft 

to  rise 

Out  of  the  sunset  deep ; 
Thou  kissest  me  between  the  eyes, — 
To  wake  me  from  my  sleep. 

Life's  sleep  of  woe  !  —  Thou  hoiiorest  me  ; 

I  lie  within  thine  arms ; 
Held  in  that  clasp,  I  can  but  see 

Thy  pity  and  thy  charms. 

My  Heart!" — thou  sayest, — "my  Heart!  I 
yearned 

For  thee,  in  all  thy  ways ; 
Saw  how,  each  hour,  thy  spirit  turned 

From  Earth's  embittered  days. 

(122) 


STUDIES   FOR  POEMS. 

"It  mattered  not,  by  land  or  sea ; 

Ever  thy  sorrows  there ; 
The  peace  these  hands  have  kept  for  thee 
Shall  match  thy  long  despair. 

"  For  these  slow  clouds,  there  shall  be  skies 

Serene  as  thy  desire  ; 
For  tears  that  never  left  thine  eyes,  — 
A  vision  as  of  fire. 

"  For  words  that  died  in  agony 

Triumphant  hymns  shall  wave 
Their  soft-Tone-banners,  true  and  free,  — 
Above  thy  happy  grave." 


123) 


AT   THE    END. 


"  I  saw,  also,  that  there  was  an  ocean  of  darkness  and 
death ;  but  an  infinite  ocean  of  light  and  love,  which 
flowed  over  the  ocean  of  darkness.  In  that,  also,  I  saw 
the  infinite  love  of  God."  —  GEORGE  Fox's  JOURNAL. 


HIS,  not  that,  is  true,  mine  own; 
True,  —  far  beyond  these  sighs  ; 
Just  as  I  see  not  eyes  alone 
Looking  from  out  thine  eyes. 


Just  as  I  hear  not  issuing  words 
From  out  those  lips  serene  ; 

Instead,  —  the  truth  of  flashing  swords 
Such  as  might  guard  a  queen. 


There  is  a  spirit-radiancy 
That  sight  must  all  forego 


STUDIES   FOE  POEMS. 

It  is  not  thy  mortality 

Thyself  that  makes  me  know. 

Thus, — when  all  hopes  but  mockery  seem. 

All  shadows  one,  —  Despair ; 
Thyself,  —  the  real  within  a  dream, — 

Flashest  upon  me  there ; 

And,  whatsoever  light  or  grace 

May  yet  be  mine,  I  see 
No  sweeter  memory  than  your  face, — 

God's  loving  thought  for  me ! 

The  days  depart;  —  the  black  waves  rise 

About  life's  barren  strand; 
There  is  no  freshness  in  the  skies 

No  greenness  on  the  land. 

But  God  looks  on ;  His  hand  is  there,  — 
Where  nought  but  chaos  seems ; 


* ' 

STUDIES  FOE   POEMS. 

He  brings,  from  discords  of  despair, — 
The  music  of  our  dreams. 

And  now,  look  close  !  the  black  waves  creep, 
Lessening  their  noisome  strife; 

And  other  waters  o'er  them  sweep, — 
Bearing  the  hues  of  life. 

These  triumph,  and  not  those ! — We  see 

The  olive-branch,  the  dove; 
Not  Death,  but  Life,  our  destiny; 

Not  Hate  at  last  but  Love. 


LINES 

OX    THE    ADJOURNMENT    OF    THE    HOUSE    OF 

COMMONS,  ON   RECEIVING   TIDINGS  OF    THE 

DEATH    OF    SIR    GEORGE    CORNEWALL 

LEWIS,  BART.,  SECRETARY  OF  WAR, 

APRIL    14,    1863. 


HE  ranks  are  gathered,  —  not  to  fight, 

To  struggle,  or  to  dare; 
Ah,  no,  —  for  011  this  meeting  night 

Far  other  thoughts  are  there. 
Hushed  is  th'  upbraiding  word  —  the 

flow 
Of  passion  calmed  to  peace ; 

One  mightier  shoots  his  bolt,  and  lo ! 
Earth's  petty  tumults  cease. ? 

And  faction's  reign  itself  is  past, 

For  one  brief  —  solemn  hour; 

(127) 


Hi * 

STUDIES  FOR   POEMS. 

As  brothers  here  they  bend  at  last, 
Before  a  sterner  power  ! 

Few  are  the  words,  but  fitly  said, 

That  speak  the  sense  of  all  — 
That  pay  due  honor  to  the  dead, 

His  deeds  and  worth   recall. 
Opponents  rise  to  touch  the  theme, 

And  speak  with  saddening  praise, 
Of  gifts  and  powers  they  well  might  deem 

Deserving  longer  days.  * 
Finished  those  words  —  that  duty  done, 

And,  till  the  morrow's  light, — 
They  leave  the  mighty  pile  alone, — 

To  silence  and  to  night ! 

Kind  Heaven  !  we  would  not  bend  to  thee 
In  bitterness  and  gloom  ; 

*  Several  of  Sir  George  Lewis's  strongest  political  opponents 
expressed,  on  this  occasion,  their  high  sense  of  his  virtues  and 
talents,  and  their  deep  regret  at  his  untimely  death. 

(128) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

Thy  mercy  only  might  decree 

The  mercy  of  the  tomb  ! 
Grant  us  —  these  years,  that  fade  so  fleet, 

To  guide,  in" strength  and  power; 
Grant  us,  prepared  and  calm,  to  meet 

The  last  and  final  hour; 
Grant  us,  when  all  our  path  is  trod, 

As  loved  to  reach  the  grave, 
As  he,  who  rests  beneath  the  sod, 

Where  Cambrian  blue-bells  wave  ! 


"  SAVED:" 

AVED!"  — But    I    wandered    far  and 

wide,  — 

Where  rocks  and  thorns  were  set ; 
My  heart  110  single  instant  tried 

To  scale  its  Olivet. 
"  Saved  !  "     But  one  thing  alone  I  knew,  — 

Despair,  —  that  filled  my  soul; 
All  else  was  shadowy,  this  was  true,  — 

My  anguish  and  my  goal. 
"  Saved !  "     Though  an  angel  spoke  the  words, 

Could  they  be  true  for  me? 
When  God's  hand  so  has  crushed  the  chords, 

Can  they  speak  victory? 
"  Saved!"     But  the  victory  is  not  mine, — 

If  mine  the  last  defeat; 

(130) 


STUDIES   FOR  POEMS. 

If  the  unearned  gift,  O  Lord,  be  thine, 

At  least,  —  such  gift  were  sweet. 
•  Saved !  "     But   a  sinner  once  drew  life 
'Twixt  stirrup  and  the  ground; 

There  must  be  peace  beyond  the  strife, 
When  what  was  lost,  is  found. 


(130 


FROM    THE    GERMAN   OF   HEINE. 


I. 

<E ATH  is  the  night,  so  cool  and  free ; 

Our  life  the  sultry  day; 
Already  fades  its  light  for  me ;          * 
I  am  weary  of  the  way. 

Above  my  bed  a  tree  grows  near; 

There  sings  the  nightingale ; 
She  only  sings  of  love ;  I  hear 

Even  in  my  dreams  her  tale. 

II. 

I  wept  once  in  my  sleep ;  I  thought 
Thou  wast  laid  within  the  grave ; 

I  woke,  and  that  dark  dream  had  brought 
Salt  tears  my  cheeks  to  lave. 


STUDIES  FOE  POEMS. 

I  wept  once  in  my  sleep ;  I  dreamed 

Thou  hadst  forsaken  me  ; 
I  woke,  the  mournful  torrents  streamed 

Yet  long  and  bitterly. 

I  wept  once  in  my  sleep ;  I  dreamed 
Thou  still  to  me  wast  good;  * 

I  woke,  arid  yet  forever  streamed 
My  passionate  weeping's  flood. 


(133) 


FROM  KARL  GEROK. 

GOLGOTHA. 

"  I  have  in  my  thought  travelled  through  many  times, 
even  through  the  Eternities;  but  God  be  praised,  wher 
ever  I  have  come,  nothing  has  touched  my  heart  like 
Golgotha.'  —  ZINZENDORFF. 

HROUGH  the  dim  ways  of  many  lands, 

The  Wanderer's  staff  I  bore ; 
From  many  a  rocky  point  these  eyes 

Have  traced  the  valleys  o'er, 
But  far  beyond  each  earthly  hill 

That  Memory  makes  her  own,  — 
There  rises  to  my  vision  still, — 

Golgotha's  mount  alone. 

It  lifts  not  upward  to  the  clouds 
An  ice-crowned  forehead  high ; 

( 134 ) 


STUDIES   FOR    POEMS. 

Men  watch  it  not,  through  sunny  air, — 

"Flatter  with  sovran  eye;" 
But  lifted  firm  from  earth  away,  - 

Set  near  to  Heaven  at  last,  — 
I  have  but  felt,   upon  the  day 

I  by  Golgotha  passed. 

Upon  its  desolate  forehead  bare,  — 

No  woody  crownlet  lies  ; 
Neither  the  oak,  serene  and  fair,  - 

Nor  cedar's  mysteries  ; 
But  cedars,  kingliest  of  the  land 

That  Hermon's  slopes  could  know,  — 
•They  bow  their  heads  unto  the  dust 

Golgotha's  cross  below. 

Nothing  is  there  that  we  behold 
Of  Earth's  bewildering  pride,  — 

Not  fields,  bedecked  with  green  and  gold,  — 
Nor  silver  streamlets  wide  ; 

*  Shakespeare,  Sonnet  xxxiii. 

(  '35) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

But  all  earth's  glare  before  my  view 

Fell,  as  a  shadow  flies, — 
When  on  Golgotha's  cross  I  knew 

The  atoning  Sacrifice. 

Yonder  no  little  brooklet  peeps 

From  mossy  stone  or  sand; 
No  proud  stream  from  that  summit  leaps 

Downward  into  the  land; 
But  from  that  cross's  stem  there  flows 

Through  all  lands,  rich  and  fair,  — 
The  spring  of  everlasting  life  ; 

Golgotha's  blood  is  there. 

About  that  mountain's  brow  there  flowers 

No  golden  sunshine  sweet; 
Year  in,  year  out,  strange  tempest-powers 

Seem  ever  there  to  meet ; 
But  where  the  bluest,  loveliest  heaven 

O'er  Greece  and  Rome  may  shine, — 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

Those  holy  shadows  were  not  given 
That  made  Golgotha  mine. 

The  haughty  heathen  striketh  here 

In  penitence,  his  breast;     . 
The  sinner's  death-song  rises  clear 

Among  the  spirits  blest; 
But  yonder  angel-harps  may  raise 

A  sacred  Gloria, — 
The  Eternities  for.ever  praise 

The  deed  of  Golgotha. 

Thou  poor,  soul-poisoned  Pilgrim,  stay 

Yonder  is  rest  for  thee  ; 
He,  the  Sin-bearer,  takes  thy  doom 

To  give  thee  Liberty; 
Thou  need'st  not  any  more  to  roam 

Unhealed  beneath  the  skies ; 
And  yet,  —  the  way  unto  thy  home 

Over  Golgotha  lies. 
(137) 


N<dk^ 

fer— "• 


SONG    OF    AUTUMN. 

(FROM  THE  FRENCH.) 

flower  already  faded  now 
Burns  in  the  sunlight  deep  ; 
Crowned  with  foreboding  and  with  woe 
Earth  enters  in  its  sleep. 


Let  us  unveil  our  thoughts  alone, — 
At  Memory's  mournful  call; 

We  dream  on  all  things  past  and  gone 
Under  these  leaves  that  fall. 

The  heart,  humane  and  generous,  sighs 

Over  all  sweetness  past; 
Soft  yearnings  in   the  spirit  rise 

For  what  is  dead  at  last. 

(138) 


STUDIES   FOR   POEMS. 

As  through  these  withered  leaves  we  go,— 

Too  plainly  it  appears, — 
How  much  must  wound  the  heart  below, 

And  fill  the  eyes  with  tears. 

Regarding  then  our  life,  we  see 
How  sweet  and  blest  a  one, — 

Through  every  sorrow,  it  may  be 
So  it  have  Love  alone;     . 

We  give  to  God,  upon  our  knees, — 
Thanks  for  His  mercy's  sake, — 

And  of  our  vows,  that  cannot  cease, — 
A  double  prayer  we  make. 


(139) 


TO  A  FATHER 
ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HIS  DAUGHTER. 

(FROM  THE  FRENCH  OF  MALHERBE.) 

HY  sorrow,  then,  my  friend,  shall  last 

forever  ? 

• 

And  memories  of  the  past, — 
That  thy  paternal  heart  may  vanquish 

never,  — 
Still  haunt  thee  to  the  last? 


Thy  daughter's  fate,  —  thus  to  the  tomb  de 
scending,  — 

To  meet  the  fate  of  all, — 
Is  that  some  maze,  where    Reason,  dimly 

wending?  — 
Cannot  itself  recall  ? 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 

I  know  the  cares,  the  hopes,  that  marked  her 
way,  — 

That  filled  her  childhood's  years; 
Injurious  friend  !  —  I  have  not  sought  to  stay 

The  current  of  thy  tears. 

But  she  was  of  this  world,  whfere  things  most 
bright 

Fade  swiftest  to  decay; 
A  rose,  she  bloomed  like  roses  in  the  light 

One  morn,  —  and  passed  away. 

Death  has  her  terrors,  like  to  none  beside; 

We  pray  and  shriek  in  vain ; 
The  torturer,  deafened  with  remorseless  pride, 

But  leaves  us  to  our  pain. 

The  peasant,  in  the  hut  where  poor  men  wait, 

Before  her  rule  must  cower; 
Nor  can  the  guards  that  watch  the  palace  gate 

Defend  the  monarch's  power. 

(HI  ) 


LAI. 

Lais  were  the  lyric  poetry  of  the  old  French  poets, 
who  were  imitated  by  some  amongst  the  English.  They 
were  principally  used  on  melancholy  subjects,  and  are 
said  to  have  been  formed  on  the  model  of  the  trochaic 
verses  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  tragedies.  Pere  Mourguy 
gives  us  a  pleasing  instance  of  one  of  these  ancient 
lais,  in  his  '  Treatise  of  French  Poetry ' : — 

Sur  1'appuis  du  monde 

Que  faut  il  qu'on  fonde? 

D'espoir  ? 

Cette  mer  profonde, 

En  debris  feconde 

Fait  voir 

Calme  au  matin,    1'onde 

Et  Forage  y  gronde 

Le  soir. 


(142) 


STUDIES  FOR  POEMS. 
TRANSLATION. 

In  the  world's  faith,  —  uncertain,  blind,  — 

What  is  the  trust  our  hearts  may  find 

Hope's  dream  of  light?  — 

That  dim,  profound,  and  treacherous  sea, 

Fruitful  in  wrecks  and  woes  to  be, — 

Gives  to  our  sight 

Seems  calm  at  morn,  —  where  surging  wave 

And  hurrying  tempests  howl  and  rave, — 

Ere  sinks  the  night ! 


(143) 


INDEX. 


Page 

A  Christmas  Song, 99 

A  Death  Bed, 18 

A  First  View  of  Quebec, 91 

Amine, 34 

An  Oriental  Salutation, 33 

At  the  End, 124 

Church  Bells  in  Venice, 86 

Church  of  Notre  Dame  de  Bonsecours.     .        .        .109 

Clotho,  Lachesis,  Atropos, 112 

Dying  Song  of  the  Italian  Soldier,     ....  24 

Elmire's  Portrait, 85 

Eulalie  de  la  Providence, 105 

Fate  and  Free-will, 56 

From  Karl  Gerok  — Golgotha, 134 

From  the  German  of  Heine,       .  '  .        .        .132 

In  Autumn, 97 

In  Milan  Cathedral, .  78 

L'Affinita, 10 

(  MS) 


INDEX. 

Page 

Lai, 142 

Lines  suggested  by  Two   Stone   Figures  at  Rouen 

Cathedral, 48 

Mala  Prohibita— Mala  in  Se,     .....  53 
On  the  Adjournment  of  the  House  of  Commons  on 

the  death  of  Sir  George  Comewall  Lewis,  Bart.,  127 

Prelude, 5 

Saved,  .        .     ,  .        '. 130 

Song  of  Autumn, 138 

Teresa  of  Avila  before  her  Crucifix,           .        .        .  31 

The  Choice, .102 

The  Fair  Bridegroom,           ......  122 

The  Grave  of  Fenice, 81 

The  Mystical  Land, 74 

The  Nun, 28 

The  Prisoner  of  the  Hunger  Tower,           ...  64 

The  Roots  of  Life, 61 

The  Yoyage  of  the  Petrel, 40 

To  a  Father  on  the  Death  of  his  Daughter.       .         .  140 

To  a  Friend, 88 

To  Clarice, 16 

To  my  Sister  of  the  Sacred  Heart,      ....  7 

Two  Springs, 94 

We  are  Three, 38 

(  146) 


